Harry Potter & The Dark Revelations
by Terra4
Summary: PG13 for child abuse, self-mutilation, mentions of rape.. Severitus Challenge. Harry walks the thin line b/w dark and light. Darkness of soul, past, thoughts, actions.. Will it lead to a Death Eater's life? It did before. But then, there's Harry's Father.
1. The Many Faces of The Summer Sun

**Harry Potter & The Dark Revelations.**

**Chapter 1: The Many Faces of The Summer Sun.**

A/R (I think I read too much of VMorticia's work to be able to think of this as anything but 'Author's Ramblings'… ^_^ Cheers VMorticia! Go read her stuff): So, I finally posted this first chapter. A lot of build-up for the next chapters in here. There are no OCs in this fic, so the girl is actually someone from the books. Figure it out yet? Lots of foreshadowing, pick them up. The whole story is laid out for you right here.

Summary: chapter is rated PG-13 for mention of rape, and because someone bleeds. Severitus challenge. The prospect is dark for everyone, and many dark revelations await our characters. This will turn out pretty angsty and maybe even dark. A little drama. Harry walks the thin line between dark and light, where will he fall? Darkness of soul, of life, of action and of thoughts… will it lead to Dark Magic? It did once, didn't it? Adults are clueless and lost when it comes to Harry. He is too. But then, there's his newfound father…

~*~*~*~

Harry looked at his clock. 1 AM. Good. Since the sandman had decided to ignore his very existence this summer, he had all the time in the world to do this. Or was it he who had decided to ignore to sandman? He couldn't tell anymore. In any case, he didn't sleep. Not that he cared to, with his nightmares.

He got up and dressed in his wizard's robes, cloak, took his money and left the house. Once in the street, he flagged the knight bus down.

"Diagon Alley," he told Stan, who couldn't recognize him since he had his cloak's hood pulled over his face. Harry really didn't want to deal with a pimpled, grown-up version of Colin Creevey right now.

~*~*~*~

Harry looked around the darkened street. Not so many people around after dark, he realized. Maybe they were scared; Diagon Alley was always crowded, even late at night. Or at least there were people around. There were only about 5 people tonight. Could it be that wizards had taken Dumbledore's warnings to heart?

He made his way to Knockturn Alley, and there he stood, admiring the place. Knockturn Alley was really a beautiful place, though to the untrained eye it would look like a scene out of a horror story. Not that he knew any horror stories, or had seen any horror movies, but Dudley would've been scared witless. He sneered. Yes, one day he'd bring the git here, just for the heck of it, before torturing the twit until his brains leaked out of his ears…

Harry suddenly narrowed his eyes and punched a nearby wall, making his knuckles bleed. Of course he wanted to make Dudley suffer; heck, if he did to that moronic excuse for a muggle a tenth of what Dudley had done to him, the whale would surely die of pain… But he wasn't going to. He'd sworn to that when he was 6. He wouldn't become like them, like his relatives. He wouldn't beat people, or hit them, or torture them.

Or rape them.

Or _sell_ them.

But then again, could revenge be compared to the reckless craze of torture that the Dursleys had indulged in so often?

Harry hit the wall again, splattering the wall in crimson droplets, and watched as his knuckles bled even more. He was always amazed at how hard he could hit without feeling any pain… He was probably immune to pain… Except for the pain of Cruciatus. Nothing could compare to _that_. Nothing. He should know.

He took a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it with a murmured _"incendio"_ and a flick of his wand. He didn't really _smoke_: he was just experimenting… He'd stolen this from Dudley, as he'd wanted to try. It wasn't that bad at all. He wouldn't get in trouble for using magic _here_, he knew. Use of magic in Knockturn Alley couldn't be detected, the inhabitants had seen to that. Or at least, use of magic by underage wizards couldn't be detected. That he was sure of. But as for the use of Dark Magic… Well, Aurors had some pretty developed detectors. But then again, Knockturn Alley hung on to its secrets like drowning sailors…

Oh how he'd had to _work_ to find out the intricacies of Knockturn Alley. Coming here, every night since the beginning of summer, just to watch how people went about their things… And what he'd found out, except the bit about being able to use magic undetected, wasn't much.

He first went into the bookstore and took all the "Introduction to the Dark Arts" books he could find. He'd decided long ago that to survive in a world that unfortunately housed Voldemort, he'd have to know what he was up against. He'd never use the Dark Arts, of course… Of course not… He just wanted to be prepared…

Keeping his hood up at all times, and speaking only in hushed whispers, he bought the books. "You can't tell what you don't know" was one of his principles, and, he'd heard people say, one of the rules in the Slytherin Code of Conduct. Why Gryffindors didn't have a Code of Conduct, he'd never known. Maybe because writing things like "Stand up for what you think is right, even if you're standing alone" and "Don't be afraid to say what you think, even when you don't think about what you say" would be a bit redundant after a while. Just 'Be brave and bold' covered that… and stupid, one could argue. Though Harry was of the firm opinion that stupid people existed in every House, some Gryffindors confused the traits of their House with reckless stupidity.

So in any case, as long as the shopkeepers didn't know who he was, they couldn't tell anybody what he'd bought, that's what "You can't tell what you don't know" meant.

Next stop was the wand shop.

Harry knew he would have the misfortune of meeting The Dark Lord again. It seemed to be his fate. The man could devise extremely devious plans, just to kill the object of his hate. And Dumbledore hadn't been the epitome of guardian of security so far. Why, the way he'd fallen for Barty Crouch Jr's stunt was proof of that. _Enough!_ he told himself. _This isn't about Dumbledore being at fault, it's about Barty Crouch Jr.  being an expert in manipulation._

And he didn't blame Dumbledore for putting him in the flimsy care of the Dursleys, so why should he care about him making another mistake? _Errare humanum est._ It wasn't the man's fault he didn't know what Harry's relatives were like, since the teen himself hadn't told.

Harry made his way through the winding streets of Knockturn Alley, the only light being that of the waning moon and a few torches here and there. He didn't want to buy his new wand at Ollivander's, because the old man would recognize him and tell Dumbledore. But Harry would rather _no one_ knew that he was preparing against Voldemort. That way, the Dark Lord wouldn't get wind of it either. His first wand being the brother of You-Know-Who's, Harry decided he would need another one to fight him. Voldemort had no doubt thought along the same lines, but he could still hope to take him by surprise… _One moment of distraction is all I need…_

He entered the shop, which seemed just about the same size as the one in Diagon Alley. In other words, it was tremendously big.

"What do you want?" spoke a young, bored voice in the dimly purple-lit shop.

"A wand," Harry answered, stepping towards the female voice. He saw a girl at the counter, leafing through an old _Grimoire_. She was his age, and he was sure he'd seen her at Hogwarts, but he couldn't tell who she was. She had dark red hair, not the vibrant one that Ginny had, but more like the colour of red wine.

The girl's head shot up. "Why, you're a customer!" she grinned "I'm sorry, we don't get customers lately so I wasn't expecting one." Harry nodded in understanding. "Which is your wand-hand?" she continued, rummaging through the drawers of a desk.

"Right"

"How do you know?"

Harry stared. "Aside from the fact that it's my hand we're talking about?"

"Can you right with your left-hand?" she asked, still going through various papers and books.

"Yes"

"Did you ever use your wand with your left hand?"

Sigh. "Yes."

Now she looked at him, eyebrows raised. "Do you like Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans?"

Harry blinked (though she couldn't see it). "Yeah…"

She went back to looking through her files. Harry had a feeling the girl was too bored for her own good. Then she asked him if he liked bubble baths. Harry snorted.

"Are you quite finished? I'm here for a wand, not a kinky date." Then, as an afterthought, "and no, I prefer showers."

She smiled up at him, and handed him a wand. Rosewood and Veela hair. He almost visibly recoiled. _Rosewood?_ _Yuck!_ He hated pink, and that wand was pink. It didn't work, thankfully… After having tried a wand with giant's blood, one with vampire fangs and another with werewolf fur, she handed him his fifth, a black one.

"12 inches long, ebony, flexible and Dementor skin."

Harry almost dropped the wand in shock. And horror. And disgust.

"_Dementor skin?!_"

She shrugged. "I know it's gruesome, but it's a really powerful core, and it doesn't have any of the effects that real Dementors cause. Well? Try it."

So he did. And as a familiar warmness surged through him, the wand produced a weird, tinkling sound and they were showered with a bout of rain.

"Well," the girl said "that'll be 9 galleons."

~*~*~*~

Harry shrunk all that he'd bought and put them is his inner cloak pocket. He then moved towards Diagon Alley, he still needed to stop by Apothecary.

Since the twins had confided in him that potion making couldn't be tracked down during the summer, he'd taken to studying that course by practising. In the three weeks since the holidays had started, Harry had reviewed everything he had been taught so far. He'd read it all over again, memorized, learned and researched every topic they'd covered. (He wasn't supposed to, of course, but Harry always found a way around the Dursleys.) He'd even read through his previous essays… and he'd finished his homework.

How he found the time is a wonder, though, since during the day Harry was the Dursleys' personal slave. And Vernon loved torturing the boy. But at night, Harry didn't sleep and spent all his time either on studying, or in Diagon Alley.

Most important of all, he'd rediscovered potions, and he had to admit that without Snape, the subject was not only enjoyable, but also entrancing. And potions were the only reason he was still able to walk or write or even breathe, since he cured himself every night after being disfigured by his uncle and cousin.

Once he'd bought everything he needed from the apothecary, Harry returned to his own personal hell for the remainder of the night.

~*~*~*~ * ~*~*~*~

A/R: ok, was this too short? Was it boring? And what else do you think? Please send a review.

_Terra Aeris._


	2. Home Is Where The Heart Is

Harry Potter & The Dark Revelations

Chapter II: Home Is Where The Heart Is…

Disclaimer: This is the first and last disclaimer of the story. Fan. Fiction. Figure it out. Can't do it? Ok: No Money. Oh but I lay claim to my interpretation of 'the order of the phoenix'. It hasn't been done the way I'm going to do it, as far as I know. So it's mine. :P

A/R: Hello readers! **_THANK YOU!_** I mean, 32 reviews… wow. I'm glad you like it. Let me tell you now: be prepared. You aren't ready for my horrible plans, I hope. I intend to take you by surprise…

**FAQs:**

**_Will this be a slash story?_**

Many people seem to want this to be Slash. Please tell me what you think. Originally, no, this wasn't intended to have _any_ pairings whatsoever. However, if you're waiting for Harry/Severus, it means there's a tiny possibility you don't know what Severitus'Challenge is… Am I right? If so, **_don't find out!!_** It will be a surprise.

However, I have many 'love-life' problems ahead for Harry, even if he won't have a steady relationship (or will he…). Trust me, there will be something for everyone. If you object and decide not to read this fic because of that, tell me first, please, because the story is subject to changes according to your preferences…

**_Why did Harry buy a new wand?_**

Sorry… I thought it was explained… I'm really sorry if it wasn't clear. Here's the deal **(warning: spoiler for book 4)**: Harry and Voldemort can't fight each other, since they have brother wands. When they try, it doesn't work, and instead, the effect called _Priori Incantatem_ takes place. To avoid not being able to curse the guy, if it ever comes to that, Harry bought a new wand.

**_Dementor skin?!_**

Yuck. I know. Tell me about it. There's a reason though… hehehehe…

Warning: PG-13 for child-abuse, alcohol, **drugs** (I should've warned you beforehand, I'm sorry…) and studying of the Dark Arts.

~*~*~*~ * ~*~*~*~

The first thing Harry did once he was at the Dursleys' was to open one of his books. _'Introduction to the Dark Arts: So You Want To Know How To **really** Curse…_' Chapter I: _Whoever heard of a Wizard winning a duel by using _Tarantallegra_? Why you need Dark Magic._

~*~*~*~__

September 1, 1995. 1AM 

Harry silently made his way upstairs to the attic. The Dursleys had put him back in the cupboard as a birthday gift, and his wizard's supplies were stored in there. Dudley's second bedroom had become the 'Playroom', as Vernon so elegantly put it. 'Torture Chamber' suited the place better, in Harry's mind.

The young boy mentally thanked Merlin for his relatives' being so afraid of magic that they hadn't dared burn his school supplies. That was unusually wise of them, considering they would've had a hard time dealing with the consequences of his potions ingredients going up into flames. _Ha! A hard time indeed, considering it would've killed them_. Oh, but the explosion that would've ensued… Not that he wanted the Dursleys to live; he just wanted his possessions to remain intact.

He entered the attic and took a vial of potion out of his pocket. _Shrinking Potion_, read the label. He spilled some on his trunk, and pocketed the item that was now no bigger than a sandwich.

He went back downstairs and placed the trunk in the garden, spilling the antidote on it. Then, he went and gathered everything else he owned, placed them in his trunk and took his wand out.

"And where do you think you're going, boy?"

Vernon was awake.

Harry froze.

His uncle walked up to him as Harry turned around, and in one swift and tremendously strong punch, sent him in the fence. Harry pretended to be unconscious. Vernon didn't appear to care, though.

He dragged him up the stairs and into the torture chamber, took Harry's shirt off and dumped him on the ground.

And down came the belt. Harry wouldn't scream. The belt hit him again. And again. Buckle side, too… And again and again and again, while Harry kept his eyes closed and Vernon told him just how worthless he was, how little he'd amount to in his life and how much the world would be a better place without him to pollute it by his very existence…

Then he dragged him into the bathroom and filled the tub with water; he took Harry by his hair and forced his head into it.

Harry couldn't hear. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't see. He was going to die…

Vernon pulled him out, let him gasp for air and pushed him back in again.

At 2 AM Vernon went to bed.

At 2:30 Harry regained consciousness and went back into the garden, pulled on his cloak and flagged the Knight Bus, keeping his hood up to cover the bruises.

"King's Cross"

He was going home.

~*~*~*~

"Goin' to Hogwar's?" asked Stan.

Harry nodded.

"Ya might wanna go ups'airs, thir' floor. 'Ere's tha annual students' party goin' on."

_Annual students' party?_ Why hadn't he heard about that before?

Harry shrunk his trunk again, before putting it in his pocket, and made his way up the stairs to the last floor of the triple-decker. There was a closed door, with a piece of parchment hanging on it:

"The Annual Hogwarts' Students' Summer Party 

**_Our Motto:_**

_'**Drink & Get Drunk**'****_

Every year there's a party in the Knight Bus organized especially for Hogwarts students and by Hogwarts students.

You're going to Kings' Cross to catch the train? This is your last chance to have a decent Summer Party? Don't miss the party that will end all parties!****

**FREE DRINKS!**

Drinks, music, and everything else you didn't even want to know existed, are here for all to enjoy!

The Hogwarts Express leaves the station at 11 o'clock. The Knight Bus drops the students at Kings' Cross at 10:30. The party starts at around 1 AM… Count the twigs.

Get crazy one last time before school starts!

The Students."

Count the twigs? Harry supposed that was the Wizards' equivalent for "You do the math" in Muggle English. He opened the door and stepped through, and was immediately met by an excess of noise, consisting mainly of music and chattering. The first thing he noticed after that was a mug of beer levitating through the crowd. Suddenly there was someone in front of him.

"Hello! Welcome to the party! The drinks are that way." Harry recognized Lee Jordan's voice, and immediately realized through his slurring that the boy was drunk.

"Can we use magic in here?" he asked, thinking about the levitating drink he'd seen.

"Well, you can use magic once you're on the platform, starting September 1st, of course, but yeah, you can use magic on the Knight Bus too. Only today, mind you. It's 'cause it's September 1st."

Harry nodded and made his way towards where Lee had pointed, taking his wand out. He tapped his nose and murmured a few well-chosen words in Latin. He took his cloak off, shrunk it, and put it in the pocket of his overlarge jeans. Thank Merlin for Shrinking Potions. At the counter, he got himself a Vodka-lemon. He had a lot of experience with alcohol, so he knew what he liked. He'd drunk for the first time when he was nine, and had found it a beautiful way to endure the 'Playtime with the freak' sessions his uncle arranged for his sick friends. His uncle used to say that it was the only way Harry could pay the Dursleys back for all the money they'd spent on him. In short, his uncle was a pimp.

After drinking 3 Vodka-lemons and 2 Tequila shots, he got a beer and went to sit down.

"Boy, you sure can hold your alcohol," someone told him.

Harry turned around and recognized a blonde Hufflepuff, whom he vaguely remembered as one Hannah Abott.

"Yeah" was all he said. He didn't really want to dance: his entire body was in pain. And he didn't have any potions left that could cure him. As he looked around, he realized that a lot of people were smoking. Oh what the hell… he thought, as he too lit a cigarette.

"You sure you wanna smoke that?" a voice asked him.

Abott had left a while ago, so he knew it wasn't her. But the lights had dimmed and he couldn't tell who was speaking, even though he identified the voice as male.

"Why would I not?"

"You could smoke this," the boy answered offhandedly.

Harry looked at what was being held to him. Is that…?

"It's a joint," he was informed. So it is. Harry knew the smell from one of his 'customers' who'd always smoke weed in front of him. His mind went blank. He didn't know if he wanted to try, so he leaned back in his seat to contemplate the idea. But as he did that, he felt a sharp pain in his back, from the welts that hadn't closed up yet. He hissed in pain, though it was inaudible with the music, and in a rush of anger and shame at what had happened that morning, decided that yes, he'd very well like to try.

"Thank you," he said as he took the joint and inhaled some of it. He knew, from watching, that you weren't supposed to let the smoke out for a while.

"There you go," the boy said, nodding approvingly, "Are you a Slytherin?"

Harry raised an eyebrow and shook his head.

"Well, you're definitely the type for our parties. Next time you notice a majority of Slyths are missing at dinner, come to the potions classroom. The password is Deus ex Machina." And with that, the boy left. Harry stared. The Slytherin had obviously not recognized him, just as Harry hadn't recognized him. Just to think… Harry Potter at the Slytherins' party…

~*~*~*~

Harry couldn't believe he'd just been at a party that had lasted 8 hours. He wasn't drunk anymore, but he'd smoked a lot of weed and still felt quite… well… extremely detached, covered it nicely, he thought. Maybe a little too detached, one could argue. But Harry didn't care. He was feeling great. No pain.

He stepped onto the platform at 10:35 and realized that the people from the Knight Bus were the only ones here yet. He entered the train and got into the compartment at the very end, where he returned his trunk and cloak to their original sizes. Putting the vials inside his trunk (he'd cast an Unbreakable Charm over all his vials in Knockturn Alley), he immediately took his school robes out. He locked the compartment door and pulled the curtains, before removing his Muggle rags and stuffing them in his trunk. Then he dressed in his school robes (A/R: I am of the firm opinion that 'robes' actually look somewhat like long-sleeved dresses, since Wizard fashion is surely different than Muggle fashion. If they wore uniforms with ties and such, how do you explain wizards having a hard time dressing like muggles in GoF? The movie was mistaken, if you ask me…). He unlocked the compartment door and sat down, staring off into space and not thinking about anything in particular.

~*~*~*~

And that's exactly how Ron found him twenty minutes later.

"Harry! Hi! What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

Ron sat down and looked at him.

"Boy you've changed!"

And he had. He'd found that by growing his hair, he could finally escape that cursed tendency his hair had of being wildly untamable. His black hair now grazed his shoulders. He'd grown out of his boyish features, and was actually almost as tall as Ron was.

"So have you" Harry answered. Which was true, Ron had also acquired a more manly shape. The red-haired boy put a cage next to Harry.

"Here's Hedwig's cage. I let her fly to Hogwarts by herself." Harry had entrusted his owl to Ron for the summer, as he was sure his uncle would've gladly killed her had he heard her one more time.

"Thanks"

"What happened to your glasses?" Ron wanted to know.

"My eyesight corrected itself. It's like magic." Harry snorted at his joke. But it was true: inexplicably, Harry had awoken one day to find that he didn't need his glasses anymore. All for the best, really, as his aunt had reduced them to dust in a fit of rage.

"So… How was your summer?"

Harry merely snorted in answer.

"Well… mine wasn't too bad. Hermione's up front. She's a prefect now."

Harry frowned. He kind of agreed with Ron; Hermione being a prefect wasn't so good. She would be even more uptight now, if that was even possible… Then again, Harry and Ron had always known how to be a bad influence on her…

As the train started moving, Harry and Ron continued talking about little, irrelevant things, though the conversation was mostly one-sided.

~*~*~*~

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny got of the train. The girls had joined them in the afternoon, along with the twins, who'd suddenly disappeared again. Everyone commented on how everyone else had changed (though most seemed to agree that Harry had changed the most), and frankly, Harry was getting quite bored. His friends seemed pretty much unable to find anything interesting to talk about.

But as he got on a carriage and looked out the window towards the castle, all his thoughts and worries left him.

Finally, he thought, looking at the spectacular scenery that Hogwarts provided. After two months in Hell, he was home…

~*~*~*~ * ~*~*~*~

A/R: I'm sorry if this is short, but it's longer than the last chapter… There's more I wanted to write but I'm falling asleep on the keyboard and couldn't leave you reviewers hanging.

Most of you complimented my first chapter. Does this still live up to your expectations? Is it any good? Did I keep the quality going? I'm sure half of you have decided not to read this anymore… I really should've warned you before that this would contain themes on drugs and alcohol. Don't worry though; it won't take a big part at all. The essential will be self-mutilation. Coming soon…

What do you think?

Terra Aeris


	3. Talk About A Good Start

Harry Potter & The Dark Revelations 

**Chapter III: Talk About A Good Start…**

A/R: Hi people! Here's the chapter, not much, but enough to answer at least _some_ of your questions… Enjoy!

~*~*~*~ * ~*~*~*~

They entered the Great Hall and sat down at the Gryffindor table, preparing themselves to starve through yet another Sorting Ceremony, as they did every year. The only person who appeared to enjoy having to wait to get decent food after an 8 hour-long train ride where the only comestible substance available was candy seemed to be Hermione. And, as it happened every year, Ron was the first to take on the responsibility of voicing the opinion of everyone else.

"Urgh. I'm starving. I can't wait for the Sorting to be over."

There was a general murmuring of agreement at that comment. Harry rolled his eyes at the predictability of it all when Hermione shot her yearly comeback at the red-haired whom everyone but her seemed to know she was in love with.

"But the Sorting Ceremony is _very_ important, Ron!"

Which was quite true, of course, but as Ron so elegantly put it,

"To them, Hermione. To the first years. Not us. We, may I remind you, have already been Sorted."

Thankfully, the procession of first years chose that exact moment to enter the Hall, led by professor McGonnagall. As the students watched them enter, Harry realized that the line wasn't _ending._ How many first years were there anyway? He hadn't seen that many at once in all his time at Hogwarts.

"There must about eighty of them out there…" someone said in awe.

Ron moaned and let his head drop in his hands.

"Yes," Harry answered, "they were all born between September 1983 and August 1984, weren't they? Almost 2 to 3 years after Voldemort's downfall. The magical Community must've felt safe by then, and they weren't scared of having children. We're the exceptions, really. We're the few babies who survived his reign…"

A lot of people stared at this sudden show of hindsight.

"Hey! That's probably true!"

"Huh. I don't know why I didn't think of it before."

"That actually makes sense."

"You know Harry? You could be _right_."

_ Really_, Harry thought,_ do these people think I'm incapable of logical reasoning?_ Why was it such a big deal that he said something logical? He hated this. Every time he opened his mouth to say anything remotely interesting, people stared at him as if realizing that he _had_ brains after all.

Thankfully, another conversation started soon enough.

"Hey, have you realized how deserted Diagon Alley was this summer?"

"Yeah, I'm wondering if people actually believe Voldemort is back… With the ministry denying everything, I wouldn't have thought it possible that they accept it so soon…"

"I think," Hermione joined the discussion, "that it's more the students who're responsible for that. See, they're the ones who really believe Dumbledore, and they probably ran home telling their parents not to leave the house. Whether or not the parents believe the facts isn't an issue, most of them probably thought it was just a crisis that would pass, and decided not to scare their children by going out too often…"

Harry actually thought along the same lines as Hermione, but had refrained from pointing out his ideas given how people would react. He raised his eyes towards Ron and said; "You realize that Voldemort has got the upper hand right now. His next move could very well define how the entire war will turn out…"

Ron, ever the strategist, understood the meaning of Harry's words immediately.

Seamus looked lost, as did Dean. Actually, nobody else at the table had quite understood what Harry meant, not even Hermione. _Ha!_ See if he would explain his thoughts _now_, when everyone acted as if him making sense was a wonder.

Ron explained when Neville stammered a fearful "W-what do you m-mea-mean?"

"See, You-Know-Who got his body back didn't he? Now, when Dumbledore learned that, he had to tell the community. If he hadn't, the Death Eaters would've attacked without anybody being adequately prepared. But now that he actually _told_ people, most will start believing him, since Dumbledore is such a respected wizard. The problem in that is: You-Know-Who will probably _not_ do anything at all… And that's why he's got us in a strategic trap. If the Death Eaters don't show themselves, everyone will say Dumbledore was wrong, they will start discrediting him and his word, and in the end, nobody will believe him at all…"

While Ron paused to let this sink in, Harry, looking at the tabletop, slowly said: "Indeed; and that's the problem with being Dumbledore. He's admired and respected by the whole community. He's a really powerful wizard, and in a position of great influence. That's why people have so many expectations from him. They look up to him for just about anything. That's the problem: he's only human after all, but many wizards don't realize that. One tiny mistake, one flimsy error and he's frowned at and doubted, and people loose faith in him. In other words, he can't afford to be wrong."

There was silence. Then, Hermione said in a trembling voice "Oh, Harry!"

Harry looked at her. Then, at the rest of the table. Apparently, everyone seemed to think that what he'd just said applied to him as well.

"Hermione," he said seriously, "Dumbledore is in that situation because he brought himself there. He has already showed his worth countless times; he's the one who chose his own path. It's nothing like me at all. People are justified in expecting so much from him, because he's made himself known for what he is, he has taken the lead numerous times. I, on the other hand, don't have any expectations to live up to. People would be _wrong_ in expecting things from me. I have no other obligation than perhaps stay alive so the media can advertise a myth of who I am in order to sell their papers."

To his dismay, he realized that no one at the table looked guilty, as they _should_. They didn't realize the truth in what he'd just said, on the contrary, most of them seemed to think he was wrong. Even the muggle-borns, he noticed, believed him to be the wizarding world's saviour.

Ron cleared his throat and continued: "Yeah, well, as I was saying, people will stop trusting Dumbledore. The Dark Lord will actually hit two people with one curse, since once the public decides he hasn't returned to a body, Harry will be called a liar and maybe even a criminal… And then, there's the ministry. They don't acknowledge the Dark Lord's return whereas Hogwarts does. When nothing happens, people will think Fudge was right all along and they will trust _him_ instead. And everybody knows just how corrupted the ministry is. I mean to say; Lucius Malfoy is one of the people Fudge trusts the most. That's the exact moment when You-Know-Who will strike, when the people are unprepared. And he'll have the ministry in control by then. Also, imagine the psychological effect on people: when the Dark Lord _does_ strike, they will realize Dumbledore was right all along, and blame themselves for not believing him. Chances are, most of them won't even fight back, depressed as they'll be. By that stage, there will be only one thing left for the Death Eaters to do. The last ingredient will be to kill Harry, since a lot of people see him as the Saviour. When he's done that, the Dark Lord will have erased all hope. The magical community will be his to control… Check Mate."

Harry surmised that _'to hit two people with one curse' _meant _'to hit two birds with one stone'._ And _'the last ingredient'_ was probably _'the last ingredient in the potion (before it explodes)'_ or, in muggle English, _'the last straw on the camel's back (before it collapses)'_…

Everybody at the table was staring at him and Ron with their mouths hanging open. Harry could see they were scared. Or rather, terrified. And with reason: everything Ron had said was so logical, they probably felt trapped already. Some second years and first years (that the table hadn't even realized had joined them, caught up as they were in their discussion… nobody at the Gryffindor table had applauded since the beginning of the Sorting) were actually crying their eyes out at the prospect.

Harry, on the other hand, had just had a brilliant idea…

"If you're quite finished terrorizing your fellow students, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter, Professor Dumbledore and I wish to have a word with you."

That was Snape. No one else could speak in a voice that sounded like velvet yet struck like a whip.

Harry turned around, eyebrows raised; "Now, Sir?" The implication was quite clear, coming from a teenage boy: 'but I'm _hungry!_'

Snape only narrowed his eyes, before growling a nearly silent _"Now."_

Harry and Ron got up, dreading what was about to happen to them. Snape led them down to his office. "Sit."

They sat. Snape left. The two boys were left to silently contemplate what on earth they'd possibly done wrong now, before term had properly started.

A few minutes later Dumbledore and Snape joined them.

"Good evening, boys" the headmaster greeted in his usual cheerful voice.

"Evening," was the mumbled response. The headmaster sat down at Snape's desk.

"There was quite a commotion at the Gryffindor table tonight. Why, you students have even failed to notice the Sorting. Naturally, professor Snape and I wondered what it was all about."

"It was Mr. Potter, headmaster, who'd decided yet again he wanted to be the centre of attention," Snape sneered, "He and his friend Weasley have apparently decided to feed theories of approaching doom to their fellow students in order to remain the main attraction of the evening."

"Ah, yes. Professor Snape has told me all about your little conversation at the table," he chuckled, "I see you boys have it all figured out…"

If the two professors were trying to make them think that their theories were wrong, they could try harder, Harry decided. He'd spent all summer thinking about the consequences of Voldemort's rebirth. He'd really thought of every single possibility. _Of course,_ he wanted to say, _when you're responsible for the rebirth of the worst evil the world has ever known, you stop and think about the consequences._ But instead, he decided to make them understand that he knew he was right by acting as if there was no other possible interpretation of the situation. Which there wasn't, in any case.

"Not everything, Sir," he said in a steady voice, "we didn't quite figure out what you plan on doing to avoid such consequences yet."

Snape narrowed his eyes. "Of course, the illustrious Boy-Who-Lived could never be wrong, could he?" he hissed, "Not even when what he says could cause an unprecedented panic attack among students. Tell me boy, did you finally realize that you weren't qualified to pass the OWL exams? Thought you'd spread chaos trough the entire population of students, did you? Maybe that way, the school would postpone the exams to better suit your personal purposes."

Harry wanted to laugh at that. Why would he waste time on such a plan when he could study instead? Not that he doubted his capacity in any way; he'd already been studying for the exams since the beginning of summer.

"You flatter me, professor," he said instead, "I would have to be quite cunning in order to accomplish _that_, wouldn't I? And cunning is one of the most prized qualities of your House, and one that you promote above all else. It is an honour to be thought of as cunning by the Head of Slytherin House."

Snape's lip twitched. _Was he trying not to smile? Or was he trying not to sneer too openly?_ As Snape was about to answer, Dumbledore raised his hand to stop him from talking.

"I see," he said heavily, "that you are not to be mislead. Yes, boys, I admit your theories are ones we, too, have come up with. But don't worry," he winked, "I've still got a few tricks up my sleeve. And no, I can't tell you what they are" he said as Ron opened his mouth eagerly. "You must understand, however, that your theories shouldn't be spread around for all to hear. We don't know what the consequences of that may be."

"I beg to differ, headmaster," Harry spoke politely, "if the students know about these specific theories, they'll probably take them into account. Even tell their parents, maybe. It might reduce the chances of the whole community turning their back on Hogwarts, if they know that's exactly what the enemy has planned for us."

"Also," Ron continued, "You-Know-Who will merely be surprised if he finds out that these theories are circulating in the community. He planned this a long time ago, I think. Or it may only have been a coincidence in his favour. But he knows you well enough to know you understood his strategy. Even with us telling the other students about our theories, he still has the upper hand, since he probably already took into account the possibility of you disclosing this information to the community. He was just waiting for you to play that card when people started loosing faith in you, at which point he would have used it in his favour, making the ministry say you were mad or senile. Right now, all that will happen is he'll think you thought ahead, but that won't disturb him any, since he still has the upper hand."

Boy, Harry thought, when you call Ron an expert in strategy, it's an understatement. He too had thought about all this, which was exactly why he'd introduced the topic of conversation at dinner tonight: to make people aware so they wouldn't turn their back on Dumbledore. There was no risk in telling the students, as Ron had explained, and Harry himself had known this. But the difference between him and Ron, in Harry's opinion, was that his hindsight into these facts was more the fruit of boredom and a well-tuned self-defence mechanism against depression; as opposed to any innate talent such as Ron seemed to possess.

Dumbledore smiled, "I see you really have thought of everything. Now boys, can I ask you a favour?"

They nodded.

"Why don't you leave the thinking to us from now on? I know you are concerned and worried, but you need to focus on your studies more than anything else. Leave us adults do the worrying. Voldemort thrives on fear, he wants you all to be too afraid to do anything else, and that's exactly what I want to prevent. Do you understand?"

Ron nodded, albeit reluctantly. Harry sighed and said "All right, sir."

He wasn't going to do as he was asked, but better to let them think he would.

"Now, off you go to the feast."

When the two Gryffindors had left, Dumbledore looked at Severus, who had an inscrutable expression on his face.

"What are you thinking about, Severus?"

"Those two, Albus," he answered, "should have been Slytherins. They would've learned a lot, and their foolish behaviour would've only been a bad memory after one year in my House. They're cunning, a fact which I had never realized. Especially the Potter boy… You know the only reason Potter started talking about Voldemort at the table is because, as Weasley said, it would have a positive effect on our side, and the Dark Side wouldn't care." He turned to look at Albus. "In other words, he actually planned this."

Albus smiled; yes, the two boys, though in quite different ways, were cunning. Ron was really a strategist, and Harry was more skilled in estimating people, their reactions and their thoughts. But Albus had another, more important concern.

"Severus," he said, "have you realized something wrong with Harry?"

Severus sneered, "Yes, there are many things wrong with Potter, headmaster. Which one are you referring to?"

"I'm serious, Severus."

Severus frowned slightly. "No, I don't think there is anything out of the ordinary with the boy, Albus. Why do you ask?"

Albus shook his head… _maybe it's just me_, he thought. "I just had a feeling, but if you don't think there's anything wrong…"

Severus smirked, "I always say you worry too much, Albus. And I also say you have a short memory. There's still a feast going on, if you care to remember."

Albus shook himself, "Oh yes, yes… quite right."

~*~*~*~

When Harry and Ron sat down at the table again, they were shocked to see that the Sorting was_ still _not over. Nobody at the table was paying much attention to them, they were watching the first years. A little while later, Dumbledore and Snape entered and walked to the High Table.

When, finally, the first year students were sorted, Hermione said, "There are ninety-five first years in total: 26 in Ravenclaw, 20 in Hufflepuff, 24 in Gryffindor and 25 in Slytherin. That's 24 students here, 11 girls and 13 boys. That's too much work…" Hermione seemed worried, and for good reason. She was a prefect, and those students would partly be her responsibility. Ron comforted her, saying she shouldn't worry; she'd do a good job…

Dumbledore gave a short speech, the main point of which seemed to be how he was happy that nobody got sunburned too bad, and let them eat.

"Aren't you eating, Harry?" Hermione asked after 10 minutes.

Harry looked up from his plate. "Uh, no. I'm really not that hungry."

Hermione gave him a _look_. Harry immediately got up, knowing she would soon make a fuss about his eating habits and how skinny he was, said, "I'm going to bed" and left the table. He stopped by the sixth year Gryffindor prefect, got the password, and made his way to the tower.

Finally alone, he took out a book on the Dark Arts and settled on his bed, drawing the curtains around him, and sealing them with a flick of his wand--a handy spell that enabled the person inside the bed to be the only one who could open the curtains.

When Ron came up, he didn't bother talking; he was too tired and went to bed too.

Harry didn't sleep that night either.

~*~*~*~

As September 1st was on a Friday, they got a whole weekend before classes started. Harry kept on taking his _Wakefulness Potion_, so as not to endure any nightmares at night, and spent the whole weekend reading his new school books. He hadn't finished reading them during the holidays as he'd mostly studied the Dark Arts.

On Monday, he got his timetable and realized he didn't know who the DADA teacher was. Their first class for the day was Double DADA (with the Slytherins), and Double Potions in the afternoon, followed by a free period (and Runes for Hermione). They had a new History of Magic teacher though: Fleur Delacour. Harry didn't know how or why Binns had left, but he was glad for it.

"Ron, who's the Defence Teacher?" he asked.

"An Auror named Dunkirk. A woman. I think it's the first time she's teaching."

And indeed it was her first time teaching, as she told them later, during their first class. The most interesting thing they learned that day, every student seemed to agree (and for once, Slytherins and Gryffindors shared the same view), was that as their first chapter was about vampires, there would actually be an outing to Transylvania…

~*~*~*~

_Harry was outside in the backyard. It was raining. It was 11 o'clock at night. He was weeding. How, you ask? Even he had no idea. He couldn't even see his hands, but Petunia had asked him to weed the garden, so weed he did._

_He got up, walked a few steps and bumped into something. Loosing his balance, he fell. But before he hit the ground, something was pulling him up again, by the front of his shirt. They actually pulled a little too much, and he was lifted off his feet. Then a voice hissed in his ear._

_"Watch your step, mongrel"_

_Vernon. Of course. Who else?_

_He was dragged into the kitchen, where his uncle proceeded to punish him for bumping into him. He was given the usual beating at first, but his uncle soon got tired of that, and put his nephew's fingers in water. Then, he handed him a pair of scissors. Harry gulped. He knew what would happen next, and he hated it._

_After being sure Harry had grabbed the scissors by the metallic side, Vernon grabbed the boy's wrist, by the sleeve,  and pushed forward, so that each of the scissors' ends were stuck in the plug. In short, the teen was electrocuted._

_Harry screamed._

_Vernon laughed and pulled his hand out. He repeated the process more times than Harry cared to count, all the while insulting him._

_"Now, boy, have you learned your lesson at last? _Wake up… Psst, Harry wake up!"

Harry opened his eyes. Ron was nudging him again. _Wha--?_

"Mr. Potter."

_Oh bloody hell._ Of all the times and places to fall asleep, Potter… Harry sat bolt upright in his seat.

"I think Mr. Potter has not quite grasped the concept of a class. Apparently, in his mind, there is no reason why a student should sleep outside of class time," Snape sneered, "I think you would agree, then, Potter, that it is only legitimate that you should come back later today, when you are fully awake. See me after class."

Harry cursed at his own stupidity and inability to stay awake. At the end of the class, when Harry stayed behind, Ron didn't appear angry at Snape, and could only give his friend a sympathetic smile, seeing as he knew the detention was legitimate. Hermione, on the other hand, shook her head and 'tutted'. Well, Hermione had always hated any non-disciplinary behaviour…

When the class had left, Snape said, "I expect you here at eight o'clock tonight, Potter."

Harry nodded, saying, "Yes, sir"

But Snape didn't appear to be listening. Instead, he was looking at Harry's face with narrowed eyes.

"What, pray tell, happened to your face?" he hissed.

~*~*~*~ * ~*~*~*~

A/R: Hehe! This is it! Nice cliffhanger, ain't it? Oh, come on, this was a lot longer than the previous chapters. I get to write a long chapter, I get to write a cliffhanger… right?

Ok, ok… The only reason I'm not stopping here, is because I have a paper due Tuesday and won't write for a while.

~*~*~*~ * ~*~*~*~

"Excuse me?" Harry looked at Snape with an eyebrow raised. He had no idea what Snape was talking about.

Snape conjured a mirror and handed it to Harry. Harry looked. _The Concealing charm! _It had worn off. _Bloody Hell. _Harry had forgotten to treat his most recent injuries, and a Concealing Charm lasted about 3 or 4 days, if it wasn't renewed. His bruises were visible. He looked a mess. Harry didn't know what to say. Did he even have any obligation to tell his teacher?

"Mr. Potter."

Harry looked back at his teacher.

"I'll ask you once more, before I decide to take the matter to the Headmaster."

Harry cursed silently. He tore his gaze away from Snape and glared at the wall. In a barely audible voice, he said, "Street fight." No way would he tell the truth.

"Come again?"

Harry sighed heavily and looked back towards his teacher. "Street fight," he repeated, "I'm part of a clan, in the muggle world. We have street fights, with other clans."

Snape frowned. "I see," he said, and with a flick of his wand, made the mirror disappear. Harry cast the Concealing Charm again.

"I expect you here at eight o'clock sharp. You may leave." Harry left.

~*~*~*~

Once in his dormitory, he gathered his Potions Supplies and headed straight for Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. He prepared a Potion that would cure all his bruises, save the ones on his face, and another one that would cure the welts on his back and other such injuries. Better not to let Snape find out about those, if he decided to investigate further…

That night, when he reached the classroom at eight, Snape first told him to go to the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey was waiting for him. She scanned him for injuries with her wand, gave him potions for his bruises and mended his broken bones and ribs with a potion and a complicated spell. Harry himself hadn't mended them, just put the bones in a temporary stasis where they didn't hurt him any. Mending bones was still too difficult for him.

When he came back to the classroom, Snape gave him his detention and didn't mention the topic again.

~*~*~*~

The weekend of the 15th, it was time for the 5th years' outing to Transylvania.

~*~*~*~ * ~*~*~*~

A/R: finished. Was it long enough for you? Next chapter could take a while. But the longer you wait, the longer the chapters are. The midterms are coming up, see, and I'm behind on all my classes... But I'll post the next chapter ASAP.

Why is it taking so long for Snape to realize what's going on? Because I need that for character development. First, he'll have suspicions. Then, they'll be confirmed. Why? Because I'm trying to be realistic… Those fics where Harry literally up and tells them, or Snape changes his view of Harry in a night are wonderful to read, sure, but would never happen. There are two things in this chapter, which are very important to the future of the plot. Foreshadowing and/or hints, let's call them. Why not focus on them? Please don't hate me for this chapter, I know it was bad. But believe me, I have a lot planned and coming up is Remus Lupin.

God, I've lost all the readers, haven't I? If you're still reading, leave me a review, please, and leave your e-mail address if you want me to tell you when the next chapter is up.

Anyone who wants to Beta this fic will be showered with gratitude.

So, how bad was it, really?

_Terra Aeris_


	4. The Return Of The Damned

**Harry Potter & The Dark Revelations**

**Chapter IV: The Return Of The Damned**

*A/R: Among the people who are 'damned' and return this chapter, there's also me, the author. I'm damned with work. Grrr. College and midterms are killing me. I hope how sorry I am because of the tardiness of this chapter shows through the length of it. My attempt at an apology: a long chapter...

*A/R2: Oh Merlin! I just read the new chapter of The Triangle Prophecy, by Barb (on fictionalley.org) and realized something.... hahaha! You know my DADA teacher, the one who's also an auror? I named her 'Dunkirk' and I have no idea why... But you wouldn't believe who's named Dunkirk in that fic! It's a _dog_!! A foul, small, nerve-wracking terrier dog that insults the species of dogs everywhere because it's so annoying! *falls off chair laughing* I can't believe I named my teacher after the most annoying dog that ever existed in real life _or_ fanfiction! *weeeee*

*Answers to Reviewers (Ta taaaaa!!)--which won't happen too often cause it takes a helluva lot of time...--

**_Ariana Deralte:_**_ Thank you! :) His friends will be dismayed? You have no idea. You're right, no more notes in the middle of the chapters... Oh yes, about the drugs.. I'm not sure we've seen the end of that yet, though I might change my mind... You're right though, I'm quite unfair to readers aren't I? I don't tell them anything correctly... I was shaking my head at myself when I read that A/N again, about the drugs and self mutilation... Oh, now I can promise you what Severus will think is going to get quite interesting. None of that fluff you criticized in your "Not Another Snape is ... story" with me... Though why does it seem like people taking up this challenge can't evade some clichés? Like Lupin, for instance. But I'll try to be unpredictable. Giving the Gryffs too much credit? *falls off chair laughing* The thing is, I think you're right... But I couldn't let that loose end stay loose, or Harry would've looked like he was wallowing in self-pity... Now the hunger issue. Hmm, I really forgot to tie that loose end, didn't I? Originally, Harry was only pretending to be hungry, because he definitely thought that whatever Snape had to say, he wouldn't want to hear. He never really was hungry, but tried to use the implication to his advantage. Apparently it worked, since you thought he was hungry.. ;) Seriously though, I'll use the lack of clarity of that particular moment for something else I've been planning... Thank you for pointing that out! Now, when Harry healed himself, he took care in healing especially what Snape hadn't seen, and that left Poppy to deal with what was visible on his face, (and those bones he couldn't have healed) and about Poppy telling the Headmaster, that is still an issue to be decided. Or rather, it's something that will be brought up later... (I'm laughing again) I don't know what I did, but a lot of people seem to think someone--namely, Harry--will be turned into a vampire. Am I that predictable? Now, you'll just have to read to find out if people suffer mutations.. Sorry if I disappoint you... Oh, Snape will be thinking a lot next chapter--Or at least, that's my plan.. Thanks again for your wonderful reviews, and please keep pointing stuff out. Ain't no better praise than constructive criticism. (Still can't believe that one of the few authors that inspired me is reading this... I felt elated just seeing your name up there.. And started reading Uric ;))_

**_ZonyBone:_**_ Thank you! No way I'm stopping.. No matter about the Beta issue, hope you're doing well on that. What story is it btw? Hope you'll find the time to indulge in internet though. I know what it can do when parents start restricting that..._

**_RowanRhys: _**_Thank you! And I agree with what you said about your friends. Though from personal experience, I can say I've seen people talking about it a lot with their friends, while not really doing anything or telling adults. Or do your friends not talk about it at all? I'm glad you enjoyed the Knight Bus thing! :)) I was trying to be inventive there, and I'm glad it worked.._

**_Reiken: _**_*blushes* Thanks! Hope this makes you happy.._

**_Confesser Kahlan: _**_Don't worry, it won't be..._

**_D:_**_ The Concealment Charm hiding his bruises wore off, making them plainly visible for Severus... Did you read that chapter until the end?_

**_Relle: _**_Thanks! Glad you agree..._

**_Lady SallyRose:_**_ *blushes* you said 'Brilliant' *blushes again* thank you!_

**_Pixie: _**_'Jewel'? Thank you! Hmm about the slash.. I see you don't know what the Severitus Challenge is... Don't find out, it'll ruin the surprise. Thank you for the comments about the character development and the plot... It literally egged me on to right more, if only to please those who are reading this and liking it as much as you do!_

**_Maxennce: _**_Super powers? I'll think about it... But I have my own ideas about the next summer... He's in 5th year. Thanks!_

**_Jes Parker: _**_Thank you.. I'll continue as soon as I possibly can. And you're right about the stress reliever issue. I won't forget that. I couldn't get this to you before, as I've been extremely late in writing it, and decided betaing this chapter would only make people wait longer... If I decide to have the next chapter Betaed, I'll tell you! Thanks a lot for the offer._

**_Emma: _**_Thank you so much! I won't forget your advice... And I can relate to what you said about ffnet saving you... I'm no stranger to that either... Hope this is still as good..._

**_Izean:_**_ :) It was intended to be confusing, hehe... Thank you._

**_MysticJedi:_**_ Thank you... That was nice praise... I'm hoping I'll depict Ron as something else than what is usually done... About Vernon: I couldn't agree more *grins* We all hate the guy... He'll have it coming to him in the sequels though, if I go that far. Hope you like this..._

**_Tempest:_**_ I'm sorry I couldn't send this to you... But I'll hopefully write the next chapter fast, and send it for Betaing... Thank you so much for the offer!_

**_SK8ER GRL: _**_Tell me if that's what you had in mind... Thanks._

**_Ginger_pop: _**_*grins* ok, then..._

**_Diana Lucille Snape: _**_Thank you! I appreciate those comments a lot... Draco, Sirius and Remus will have quite important roles indeed. Hope you like this chapter. About the vampire issue... just read it *winks*_

**_Valerie Vancollie: _**_Thank you, I hope you like this too._

**_Prophetess Of Hearts:_**_ You're reading this?! The mere fact that you're reading is praise enough, as I always see you review stories I love... Thanks. And you'll not be disappointed, I promise, though it'll take a time for your wishes to come true..._

**_Sadineye: _**_Thank you! Sev is cool no matter what people do with him, isn't he? *gets a dreamy look*_

**_Blizzard: _**_Thank you! Now that would be telling, but I'm sure you'll like the rest of the fic. And don't worry... *wink*_

**_Rachel Story: _**_Thank you so much! I'll try not to doubt myself so much in the future.._

**_IncubusSuccubus: _**_Thank you.. And about Vernon *grins* don't I agree..._

**_Gwendolyn_flight:_**_ That 'unlikely' script had me laughing happily. I can only agree with those wishes though... Even I want Vernon to die... Hell, I'm pretty sure Harry wants Vernon to die too. In fact, only Vernon doesn't want Vernon to die... *smirks* I'm glad I scared you, hehe, that was the whole mean purpose.. Hmm, the sad-in scene is a nice idea, maybe I'll use it.._

**_AnaRae:_**_ you're welcome :) Thank you, those praises made my day.. Oh Hermione... yeah, you're right, but I wanted to show she's not perfect, as she is so often made to be in some fics. I agree she's smart, but mostly thanks to what she reads/knows, quite different than in the ways Harry and Ron are, imo. I hope this chapter makes up for that. Thanks again, that excuse took me a while to come up with.. I couldn't send you the chapter to Beta, as I made people wait so long, but I intend on sending you the next one. ;)_

**_RaeC:_**_ I loved your review. Thank you! I love constructive criticism. So you're a slash fan and don't want slash here? That is enough of a statement for me, I assure you. As for romance, I strongly agree with you. I'll follow your advice. About the A/Ns, you're right. I'll follow that advice too. "However"?--I definitely knew that one was coming... *grins* I think you're quite right about what you said concerning the abuse. I'll be including a flashback next chapter, and I'll let you tell me if it explains the pov I have on the situation enough... But I'll need to work on more than one flashback, I realize. No matter, I'm grateful for your trying to ameliorate my fic, that is the best praise you could give... Tell me though, do you know what House you're in?--that is, somehow, related to your review..._

**_KDay2: _**_Thank you, that encouraged me. I'm glad you agree and hope you like this too. But do tell me if this starts getting too slow, I don't want it to be a bore..._

**_Candledot:_**_ oooooh, I don't think anyone made such a wonderful comparison yet... A well-timed potion, now that was great praise. Thank you... Now I can say I'm a Potions Mistress... *grins* hope you like this chapter too... "brilliant"? "sly"? "angsty"? "well-crafted"? *stands speechless* I mean to say, I'm almost weeping with joy... Thank you, SO much... That meant a lot to me... I especially loved 'Sly'... I'm proud anyone should think that. In fact, I'm amazed you think that. It really made me feel like a Slytherin indeed, aside from the fact that it's a wonderful word to say to an author. Thanks._

**_Saddarkeyes:_**_ wow. Thank you. All I can say to that is: *hugs reviewer back*_

**_Shadow in The Night:_**_ you won't be disappointed about that..._

**_Sk8reagle:_**_ you'll find out in chapter V..._

**_Lindsay:_**_ ooc? yes, a little. Well spotted. In fact, thank you for making me realize it. That will be explained in the future, no worries. Something happened during the summer, and it's something worse than anyone can or has imagined as of yet... *evil, evil, evil grin*  in fact, I think I'll add an evil laugh.. Muhahahahaha!!!!!!_

**_To Lazy To Sign In:_**_ 'ideal story'? thank you, though I'm not sure it will remain so... I'll try making it slower, and the summer part will go more in depth with flashbacks, rest assured._

**_Atheis and Aeris Gainsborough_**_: You crack me up... *laughs* That was a great review, though I definitely can't understand German. Thank you, I hope it remains interesting._

**_Moonlight_**_: Oh yes, he is... Frankly, I can't wait to get to that part either..._

**_Legacy Lady:_**_ Thank you! That's too much praise..._

**_Whitelion:_**_ ok, don't worry about your romance preferences... I agree with you. Thanks a lot for that review, I can see I managed to do something right by the way you depict Harry. Thank you!_

**_Reaper's Grim_**_: Thank you! I'll tell you if there'll be pairings soon, when I get to right a certain relevant part of his summer..._

**_Sophie W.:_**_ Loved your review. Are you still reading?_

And also many thanks to everyone else who reviewed, all your praises pushed me into writing more. You guys are wonderful:__

_DRWeasel16, Chef, Sarah, Aniwda, Adragonlady, Emily Merkel, Jen, s0ccerstar3000, jen, Linds, AoM, Lee Lee Potter, Vampyre, Creamy Mimi, Kat, Dead Raven, Zorra, Hallow SHADOWS (hope you've read this), JDY (*grins* crowning event, eh? you'll be glad to know it's in my plans...), Avalon Princess, Setsuri, LunarBard, Slyffindor Playmate (love the name), vashunglasses (I heartily agree), Alisan-chan, Lei Dumbledore, mrf, Fireangle, Mystical Witch, Tima, pan, RadiantMoonWolf, Dark Hikari Kamiya, Tom Riddle's Son, LauraBlade, J. Lynn, Cassie, Reaper, Pip, Aria, Bill Weasley, Dark Luna Angel._

~*~*~*~ * ~*~*~*~

The 5th year students stayed in the Great Hall after breakfast. It appeared that 2 teachers would be accompanying them to their outing, and these were the professors Dunkirk and Snape. To the Gryffindors' utter dismay, they were to be supervised by the Potions Master. And to add insult to injury, they would be paired with the Sytherins. As if this wasn't enough, to complete their assignment, they would be divided into groups of two, composed by one student from each of the two Houses.

Snape was calling out the names of the students that were to pair up, and Harry, already feeling like this experience was going to qualify as the worst of his entire life, was proven right when the professor called:

"Malfoy and Potter."

Snape, who to his credit, hadn't organized the groups himself but was rather following Dunkirk's plans, shot a commiserating look at Malfoy, which seemed to say: "I pity you," and which made Harry want to punch him. Hard. In his obviously already broken nose.

After such a morning, which seemed to set the mood for the rest of the weekend, the students aligned in the Hogwarts lawn and waited to be portkeyed to Transylvania.

~*~*~*~

They arrived in a big old castle, which they were to explore until lunchtime, when they were scheduled to meet up with Snape at the foot of the West Wing's main staircase. They had no map, and Harry couldn't resist sneering at this obvious attempt to get them lost in a foreign, and quite truthfully, scary "big ol' castle".

Each group was handed an Emergency Portkey that would take them to where Snape was (and, thankfully, could only be activated if both members of a party touched it with their wands--that would make it impossible for Malfoy to leave him in the face of danger.)

By a weird stroke of luck, or perhaps it was anything but, Harry and Malfoy first reached a room with an engraving on a closed double-door that read:

"Vlad Tepes,

A.k.a. Vlad The Impaler,

A.k.a. Dracula's

Bedchamber"

"Kind of full of himself," Malfoy muttered. Harry couldn't help but agree. He also couldn't' help but wish they wouldn't go inside. He was hoping Malfoy would suggest retreating, but the Slytherin seemed, in Harry's opinion, intent on keeping his mouth firmly shut, just so Harry would make the suggestion himself and Malfoy could shamelessly question his so-called "Gryffindor Bravery". Well, Harry had no intention to provide Malfoy with such an opportunity to annoy him... So they entered.

As the door slammed shut behind them, and without their consent, locking itself, Harry promptly wished he had left his honor aside for just a second. He looked around the room, then at his unwilling companion, and instantly knew the Slytherin was also cursing his own stubbornness.

The room wasn't bloody or anything, but it was quite eerie. The thing that really cast a feeling of foreboding was the fact that they were locked inside. The door they had entered through was the only door, and there were no windows. In fact, aside from the door and two lit candles, there wasn't anything inside the room. Except, that is, for the coffin that stood quite conspicuously in the middle of the room.

The two boys looked at each other. They looked around. Malfoy tried to open the door again, for the umpteenth time: he had been trying to pry it open since it had closed--be it using magic, force, or even muggle-fashion lock-picking (which Harry had no idea where he could have learned about)--but it still wasn't working.

Harry sighed. He picked up a candle and started examining the walls. Malfoy did the same. When he was finished, the Slytherin asked him:

"Found anything?"

Harry shook his head: "Not a single panel, lock, or anything that could signify a secret passage."

Their eyes turned back to the coffin. Harry walked up to it and looked up at his companion, who nodded. He opened the lid, which cringed horribly, making it feel like the walls themselves were cringing, only to be met with a sudden burst of cold that made him think the Dementors must be nearby. But they weren't.

Instantly, there was a loud rumble, and a voice from within spoke:

"Whooooo distuuuuurbs myyyyy slumbeeeeer...?"

The next thing they saw was a body emerging from the depths of the coffin, but they didn't stand around to watch. They bolted for the wall, which apparently had a hidden door inside it, and without asking themselves how or when it had opened, shot through it. Once they had passed through, the wall slid closed. Malfoy instantly turned to Harry, his eyes narrowed, and snarled:

"Not a single thing that could signify a secret passage, was there?"

Harry answered, calmly: "That wall was one of the walls that _you_ inspected, Malfoy."

"And I thought Gryffindors were supposed to accept it when something was their fault," the Slytherin sneered, shaking his head and 'tutting' to emphasize his point.

Harry growled "We do. When it _is_ our fault. This, quite obviously, wasn't mine." Truth be told, Harry couldn't exactly remember whether or not the wall that held the secret passage was one he had checked... And he didn't know it, but neither could Malfoy. They seemed to reach an unspoken agreement that since no one was hurt, it shouldn't matter.

They continued exploring the West Wing, taking notes on various things that were displayed left and right, perusing through some vampires' journals that they found in a decidedly feminine living room, and literally writing down (or drawing) every single piece of information on vampires that they could find which would help them for their paper (which was, unfortunately, to be written as a common work).

It was almost time to meet Snape for lunch when they tumbled into a room the like of which they hadn't seen before. Harry was looking at some paintings when, from behind him, came a bumping noise followed by what was unmistakeably a human body sliding down a pipe. He turned around to see a tuft of white-blonde hair disappearing through the ground and heard a gasp. As he shot towards the whole-on-the-floor by which the Slytherin had disappeared, the ground opened beneath him, and he fell.

Right into a cave.

"Seems like even the castle wants us to work together, Potter. Or did you actually think it would be brave to jump in after me?"

Harry got to his feet and turned towards the voice.

"Following you is foolishness any day, Malfoy. Not bravery. To tell you the truth, I would rather have left you to your misery and gone to have lunch, were it not for the fact that Snape would've remorselessly cast the Cruciatus Curse on me when he realized you were missing. Still, I didn't even decide to join you on your"--he looked around, at the cold stone walls, and continued, sneering--"_picturesque _trip, but the castle, it seems, has a mind of its own."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow in mock-surprise, and said:

"You didn't want to join me? Why, I thought you were the adventurous type, Potter. Isn't that what you Gryffindors do? Foolishly jump into anything that smells like danger? You've never missed an opportunity to risk death as of yet, to my knowledge. Us Slytherins were beginning to think you were suicidal."

Harry suddenly had an irresistible urge to make the blonde boy uncomfortable. He started walking towards him, slowly, holding the other's gaze, and said in a low voice:

"Well, maybe I am the _adventurous type..._ And maybe there really is something that attracts me in dangerous situations. But there is still one thing I haven't tried yet... Risk death, you say? I think I definitely would be risking much worse if I were to get... _close..._ with someone whose father and his cohort of _friends_ would hate me for it, even though they already do hate me..."

He stopped in front of Malfoy, but instead of finding himself face to face with him, he found himself face to face with a wand.

"If you're thinking," hissed the Slytherin, "that I'm gay, think again. Even if I were, there's little chance I would be interested in the likes of you. You'd better not come any closer, and take your insinuations about my sexuality back."

The thing that drew Harry's attention, however, was not the hissed threat that had been delivered, but something else entirely. Malfoy's wand was trembling.

Harry laughed and gasped: "You're trembling!" And he laughed even more loudly. "Not only did you take me seriously, but you're scared!" He looked up at the other boy, who hadn't moved one muscle. "Dear Merlin! Your face was priceless... You should've seen... And you blushed!" Taken by a new wave of laughter, Harry stopped speaking.

Malfoy was staring at him with shock written all over his face. He slowly lowered his wand, and said, in an awed voice:

"That... was a joke?!" He snorted with laughter. "I've got to hand to you Potter, not many people are able to play a convincing prank on me. But you were lucky. All this vampire-castle stress and the fact that I can't even see properly in here for the lack of light must have made me gullible. I'll say it again, you were lucky. Which isn't to say you'll ever get lucky with me again--"

He had barely finished his sentence that Harry was laughing again, and Draco, realizing what his last words must've have sounded like, pulled a face.

They sobered immediately when they heard a loud rumble. Light was now streaming inside the cave, and they could see a door opening up ahead. Realizing there was no other exit, they reluctantly walked towards it.

They entered a room decorated in ancient Egyptian motifs. The wall closed behind them, and they were now once again locked in a room. This was far too reminiscent of their earlier adventure for their liking.

They started inspecting the room, to find an exit, but stopped when Draco found a closed sarcophagus. They looked at each other and Harry shrugged. The Slytherin sighed and opened the lid of the sarcophagus. Something moved inside.

"Who disturbs my slumber?" came a low parched voice, as a mummy walked out of its resting place. A wall opened, revealing an exit. Just what the boys had been hoping for. They shot through it as the mummy tried blindly to clasp its hands around his offenders' throats, and as they entered another room, the wall closed.

"This is getting a tad redundant," Malfoy said. Harry nodded.

But they worries for the morning were soon over when they found a staircase leading to a place they recognized, and from there they easily found their way to the meeting place.

~*~*~*~

As the boys separated to find their housemates, Snape appeared in front of them and stopped them.

"You aren't allowed to meet with anyone yet. Professor Dunkirk fears that would induce pupils to cheat. We've made tents in the lawn outside, and you will eat with another party, one composed of a Ravenclaw and a Hufflepuff; as Dunkirk thinks there is no way you would share information with people who aren't from your House, seeing as the House that produces the best assignments will win 200 points."

Harry hadn't known there were points involved. Still, all these precautions seemed a bit out of place to him.

Malfoy, clearly, was perplexed too, because he said: "That barely makes sense. We could still cheat when we get back to Hogwarts. The paper is due next week."

Snape answered: "Indeed, Mr. Malfoy, but professor Dunkirk has decided that the paper will be on different topics for every group, and you are to hand in your notes after lunch. The notes in themselves will test your investigation and deduction skills, as well as your capacity to observe and recognize relevant and important details, and as your notes also include--hopefully--what you went through and how you reacted, they will be a base to note teamwork and your ability to face dangerous and unexpected situations. Which is exactly why it is important that you don't share any information with other students."

Malfoy nodded, and the two boys entered the tent they were guided to. Snape told Malfoy that they were also to hand in their portkey, so the teacher could check whether or not it had been used. Apparently, their use of the portkey (or lack of it, for that matter) would be graded too.

Once in the tent, the two boys opened their journals again and started refining what they'd written, comparing them so the two accounts of their morning expedition didn't contradict themselves. Consistency between the two members of a group was graded too.

At one point, Harry asked Malfoy: "What are we supposed to say about the vampire and the mummy? That we ran away?"

"Just put we opted for a tactical retreat," was his answer.

They were finished when two girls entered their tent, faces as pale as the color of parchment. Harry recognized them as Lidya Moon of Ravenclaw and Susan Bones of Hufflepuff.

"Who died?" was Malfoy's idea of a suitable greeting.

"I don't know... I'm not even sure he_ was_ dead..." Bones replied, clearly still in shock.

"He wasn't," Moon asserted somberly, "he was quite _un_dead."

"A zombie," Bones supplied, "we ran into a zombie."

Harry very much wondered what zombies and mummies were doing in a vampire castle, but decided he'd probably find out in class, and opted for not showing his ignorance.

As the girls sat down, Malfoy turned to Moon and sneered disdainfully: "So you ran away, presumably."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Or one could say they opted for a tactical retreat..." he put in.

Malfoy smiled, glancing at Harry. Harry couldn't tell if he was smiling _with_ him or _at_ him.

"Well, the thing looked ready to bite our head off--I think we must've offended him somehow--so, yeah, we got out as fast as we could. We used the portkey, because we were lost anyway, and just came back." Moon said.

"Yeah we offended him," nodded Bones, "we shouldn't have woken it up. Remember what it said before attacking us? 'Who disturbs my slumber'?"

Harry snorted, saying: "I'm beginning to think that sentence is a favourite among the undead."

Malfoy snorted at that. Harry glanced at him. It was weird that they had been together all day, and not a single wand had been fired yet. But Harry knew it was only temporary lack of hostility, which they needed in order to get their assignment done. Once they weren't forced to work together, they would stop ignoring their hatred of each other.

At that moment, their lunch appeared in front of them, and they settled down to eat, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Afterwards, they found a note in the place where their food had been, telling them to come up to the front gates of the castle. Once there, they were asked to hand in their journals and portkeys, and were given a scrap of parchment with their essay's topic scribbled on it.

They were then finally allowed to meet with other classmates, and Harry joined his friends immediately. They settled down for playing a game of Exploding Snap, after having gotten Hermione to stop talking about how very interesting and informative their trip was.

~*~*~*~

After that, they were sent to the castle's library, to start working on their essay with their partners. It was only in the late evening that the excursion took a turn for the worst. Apparently, they were to explore the forest surrounding the castle. One look at said forest told Harry he definitely didn't want to go there.

But they did.

And they had to explore in groups of two, which meant Harry was once again alone with Malfoy. The more they trudged into the forest, the more Harry felt uneasy. There was something really wrong about the place, and it was something more than the trees that actually sneered at them and walked around, taunting them; something more than the shadows which were moving all over the place, attached to nothing and having a life of their own; something more than the eerie silvery light that didn't manage to provide light to see, and quite obviously wasn't coming from the moon. Sure, the forest was alive, but Harry felt it was also plotting something against them. Or maybe he was just being paranoid...

And maybe he was, because by the time they had found their way back to the camp, where most of the other students were getting ready to sleep, nothing had happened. When the two teachers called the roll, half an hour later, everybody was there. When they crawled into their tent to sleep, everything seemed perfectly fine. But the trees were still whispering among each other (literally), and the creatures hidden in their depths were starting to steer with excitement. Though nobody said anything about their suspicions, everybody in the camp was apprehensive, and nobody at all was feeling safe.

~*~*~*~

Harry's eyes snapped open. Something, he guessed it was a nightmare, had woken him up. He crawled out of his bed and into the tent's common area. He sat down in one of the chairs near the fire (thinking that one had to love wizarding tents, which could come with any kind of accommodation), and he'd been there for barely one second when Draco came in. Before any of them could say a word, however, Snape also made his way into the room and sat down in a couch in a far corner. He looked at them with narrowed eyes.

"What are you two doing up at this hour?" he asked suspiciously.

Harry's stomach dropped. Snape hadn't threatened to take any points off, when, given the circumstances, the Gryffindor couldn't have blamed him even if he _had _taken points. They were breaking rules by being up. But the mere fact that Snape had only asked them why they were up was indication enough that the professor thought they might have a legitimate reason... which in turn meant that Snape must be thinking there was a reason for people to be awake right now, and the man wanted to know if they were up for the same reason he _himself _was up... And if Harry's suspicions were right, Snape's not taking away points meant that he was worried and inexplicably apprehensive, as Harry himself was... and if Snape was worried, then there definitely was a reason to be.

Malfoy simply answered by saying: "Something's wrong."

Snape nodded and turned to Harry, clearly meaning he wanted to hear the other boy's explanation too. Harry couldn't think of any at first, but an answer came to him as soon as Snape's eyes started to narrow. He said:

"I'm waiting to find out what's going on."

And barely five minutes after that, fifteen of the twenty boys who slept in the tent were huddled in the room, bleary eyed, with questions ranging from "what's wrong?", "what's happening?" to "why are we up?" and "what's going on?". In short, everybody was wondering the same thing.

Then the professor Dunkirk came in, followed by a horde of 5th year girls. Snape and she had a short conversation, and those who were close enough to hear passed along what was being said. Apparently, Dunkirk had received an urgent message from the ministry, asking her to come help the other Aurors at once, but for what the students were unable to find out. And so, she had spoken with Dumbledore through fire, half an hour ago, who had conceded. She was just about to leave when the girls in her tent had started getting up, and she had no idea why they were all suddenly awake. If Snape had any theory about that, he didn't voice it.

The students all around the tent had sought comfort in a group of friends, and Harry was seated with his fellow Gryffindors. Hermione was strangely silent. Normally, in situations like this one, she would be explaining what she had read about what was going on. But she wasn't saying anything, and everyone realized she mustn't have read anything that could help them this time. What could make a crowd of more than 20 people wake up, almost at the same time, all of them feeling like something was quite definitely wrong?

Harry looked up, and saw that Dunkirk had left, and that Snape was standing in a corner watching everyone in a way that suggested he was doing some quick thinking.

Finally, he announced: "Everybody, pack your belongings immediately and come out into the clearing." When everyone stared, he added, sneering: "And those of you who are too dim-witted to understand the meaning of haste will be left behind."

That got everyone into action. In less then 5 minutes, everybody was ready. Snape then announced that they would be walking out of the forest and into the lawn surrounding the castle. When Hermione joined their side of the clearing, Ron asked: "Why aren't we leaving by portkey?"

She answered: "This forest is one of the living forests. The only way out of here is to Apparate. There's too much magic in here, it would interfere with portkeys and render them inefficient. The forest has a mind of its own, and doesn't want us to disturb its peace with portkeys, that's why it won't let us leave that way."

Harry had read about Living Forests. They were quite rare, and considered as living beings. He understood now: using a portkey inside a forest like this one would cause the forest to splinch itself. It would tear it apart and create a magical vortex--if, that is, one achieved to make a portkey work in such a place: the forest's defense mechanism usually saw to it that such things were not possible.

Suddenly, someone Apparated 10 feet away from Snape. Harry reached for his wand before he'd had time to blink, and saw that half the Slytherins, Snape, one Ravenclaw and himself had all trained their wands at the unexpected visitor. Harry soon realized that he knew the person, however, as he recognized the face.

It was Remus Lupin.

~*~*~*~

Remus stared around him in shock. These were students from Hogwarts. He hadn't known anyone would be here. Well, he had hoped to find Mundungus Fletcher in this forest, as they'd been unable to contact him and the man was currently researching rare magical creatures, but apart from that, he really hadn't been expecting to meet anyone--least of all his old students.

He looked around and his eyes fell on Snape.

"Severus?" he questioned, more than a little curious.

~*~*~*~

"Severus?" came Lupin's voice. Severus wasn't sure whether or not he should believe the man in front of him was really the werewolf he'd known in school, or someone under Polyjuice Potion. After all, he'd woken up with his Dark Mark aching, and that was never a good sign. Although he knew there was no reason to think that Death Eater Activity was brewing yet, he'd rather stay on his guard. It might not have anything to do with the Dark Lord--whatever _it_ was, apart from a feeling of wrongness that had gotten everyone out of bed--his Dark Mark was also a sensitive magical receptive, and it might have ached simply because it had picked up on some magical stirring. But even if that were true, said magical stirring would have to be a quite powerful one, which wasn't a good thing either if they were trapped in the middle of it.

He reached into his cloak with a hand, and drew a vial of potion which he threw at Lupin.

"Drink it," he ordered. The man caught it and obviously recognized it as a Polyjuice Detector Potion, which is what the potion was. It enabled the maker of said potion to find out if the drinker was using polyjuice. Lupin drank it, and as Snape watched, nothing happened. Lupin elegantly raised an eyebrow, and Snape lowered his wand. At that, all the other students lowered their wands too.

Snape then walked to Lupin and raised an eyebrow himself. The man explained to him shortly why he was there, and finished with: "and I can surmise that the 5th years are on an excursion with you."

But any answer the Potions Master could've supplied was cut off when there was a loud and echoing explosion throughout the woods, and the whole place lit up in white light. The two adults paled and their eyes briefly met. _A magical storm._

Without loosing another second, Snape turned to the students and roared: "_GET DOWN!_"

~*~*~*~

Harry heard a deafening sound roar through the forest, and watched as everything light up. His first instinct was to duck, probably because of the countless beatings he'd had throughout his life, and he threw himself on the ground, just as Snape yelled an almighty "_GET DOWN!_"

He felt the ground shake beneath him, and didn't know if it was from whatever was happening, or because every student had thrown themselves on the ground. He heard another sound, like that of a thousand angry bees charging, and now his surroundings weren't lit in white but in orange, as millions of fireballs came out of nowhere, speeding above him through the trees. Harry looked up and saw that Snape and Lupin had taken to erecting shields around the students. But the shields could only survive the onslaught of one fireball: by the time the second one came, the shields weren't holding anymore.

The noise was deafening, and he couldn't hear what Snape was shouting as he turned to Lupin. Fire sprang out of nowhere, lighting up the trees, and now the fireballs, or more accurately, power balls, for they weren't fire but lethal magic, had taken every size, shape, colour or form. The students were scattered in the clearing, and Snape and Lupin were now on opposite sides of the field. Lupin turned to Snape, shouted: "I'LL TAKE THE FRONT" while dodging a white-blue ball the size of a quaffle, and turned back to trying to dispel the power-balls. He then turned to the students and shouted: "FOLLOW ME" before leading them hastily away from where their tents had previously been.

The students scrambled to their feet and followed in an unruly crowd their ex-teacher, while Snape brought up the rear. They were apparently trying to make it out of the forest, and that told Harry that the worst that could happen in such a case was still to happen, which is why the teachers were hoping to get them out of there as soon as possible. He heard Hermione shout that this was a magical storm, and saw Ron push her out of the way of a purple ball that would've stricken her.

Then the ground started shaking beneath them, and as trees fell in their path, the earth opened and everyone was thrown off their feet. The teachers immediately to the edge of the opening to prevent students from falling inside. They were almost successful. There was now a wide chasm in the middle of the group, and the students were separated in two. Half of them were on one side, with Remus, while the other half was trapped behind with Snape. Lupin and Snape looked at each other, and as the Potions Master nodded, the other man assembled the students on his side and started herding them off to the edge of the forest. Harry was not on that side of the whole, however. In fact, he was quite _inside_ the wide void that had created itself moments ago, and the only reason he hadn't fallen was because he was grabbing onto a piece of rock that hadn't given away yet. Two feet away from him, Draco Malfoy was in a similar situation. A hand extended itself from above, and Draco grabbed it, letting himself be pulled to a somewhat safer place. That same hand now appeared in front of Harry. But Harry didn't see it, as he had his eyes closed. He was taking deep breaths and trying to remain calm, trying to think a way out of his situation. He heard somebody growl from above him, and something grabbed his hand, forcefully pulling him out. Harry opened his eyes once he was on safe ground, to look up into Snape's face. He opened his mouth to express his gratitude, but couldn't quite manage to as another ball of light sped towards them and he was forced to scramble out of its way. Snape had already gotten up and was gathering the students together. Harry realized that there was no other Gryffindor or Slytherin inside the group. Apparently, the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws had been at the rear.

Harry made his way to the group, and dimly realized that the fireballs had stopped their onslaught. Snape now turned away from where the boys had previously been trapped, and led the group in the opposite direction. They had to find another way out of the Forest, as they couldn't take the same road as the one Remus had taken, seeing as there was now a wide hole in that path.

~*~*~*~

Harry hung to the back of the group and lit a cigarette. One part of his mind was telling him smoking was going to become a habit if he didn't stop soon, while the other part was only glad that Hermione and Ron weren't here to see him.

"And I thought you were a perfect person, Potter" a voice sneered. Harry looked sideways at Malfoy, who was eyeing his cigarette.

He didn't answer, instead, he offered the blonde his pack, asking: "You want one?"

The Slytherin raised an eyebrow and said coolly, "I don't want to kill myself, be it slowly. You're the one who is suicidal."

Harry sighed. "Look, I don't like you anymore than you like me, Malfoy, but if we're going to be forced together under circumstances out of our control, we could just as well try not to kill each other in the process" he said heavily. In answer, Malfoy took one of the cigarettes.

"Offering me a cigarette is also an attempt to bring about my death, you know" the blonde answered, while lighting said attempt at homicide.

"Or maybe you're just as suicidal as you think I am," Harry smirked as the other boy walked away.

~*~*~*~

It took them about two hours of walking, but they were finally out of the woods. Snape took portkeys out of his pocket, and sent the students off, using the last one himself.

They arrived in the Great Hall, where Harry saw that the students that had been with Remus were there too, and by the looks of it, they had just made it back. After greeting his friends, he went to sit down, as he was feeling extremely tired.

When Snape came in, he just stood there for a moment, looking around. Then he went to Draco, the new Slytherin prefect, told him something, turned around in a grandiose swirl of black robes, and left without a backwards glance. Harry stared after him. He guessed the professor had counted the students, to check if everyone was there. But his just leaving like that, without providing any information at all, was just unsettling. Harry didn't really care, however, as he realized that he was far too tired to do anything else but sleep. That in itself was weird; as he hadn't slept at night for so long one could think he'd become insomniac, yet now he was starting to drift off at any moment. Though it was late at night, and everyone else seemed to want to sleep, he felt _he_ shouldn't be sleepy. Nevertheless he got up and started making his way out of the Great Hall, but was stopped but Hermione asking: "Where are you going, Harry?"

Harry shrugged, replying matter-of-factly: "To bed."

~*~*~*~

When Harry woke up the next day, it was seven in the morning. He went to the Common Room and started practising some Charms, looking into his book, but soon got bored of it. He decided to clean up, get dressed, and go down to breakfast. He was sure he'd be the only person down in the Great Hall early Sunday morning.

Once out of the shower and dressed in some casual wizardwear, he went down to the Great Hall, looked around, realised he wasn't remotely hungry, and left for the library. At about noon, Hermione came in and sat down by him. "Well," he asked her after they greeted each other good morning, "what did I miss last night?"

"Nothing," she replied, "Professor Lupin just told us to go to bed and left. I think they are holding a meeting of sorts for the 5th years today, but I'm not sure."

And indeed, there was a meeting, as Dumbledore announced at lunch, later that day; though attendance was optional.

The Gryffindor 5th years all decided to go, and Harry couldn't quite make up his mind. On the one hand, he could have the dormitory all to himself for a long period of time and practise some Dark Arts Potions he'd learned about--just to see if he could do it, really, he had no wish to use them yet--but on the other, he could go and hopefully find out what exactly had happened to them that night. Though, he reasoned, Hermione would probably explain anyway...

~*~*~*~

After lunch, the Gryffindors were standing in the Common Room, where they could be found indulging in a wide range of activities. Harry and Ron were playing Gobstones, Ginny was helping Harry, and Hermione was nowhere in sight.

There was a shout from Ron as he was drenched in smelly greenish goo, because he'd lost to Harry. Ginny was laughing. That's about the time Hermione made her entrance. As Ginny and Ron settled for a new game, Harry sat back, intent on relaxing. Hermione sat in front of him, and looked at him with an inscrutable expression.

"Harry," she ventured, "why did you smell like cigarettes this morning?" Ginny and Ron's smiles faded and they hushed, looking at the two. Harry was caught off guard, but that didn't make him change his expression. He raised an eyebrow, and answered: "Some people were smoking yesterday. The smell must have rubbed off on me." Hermione wasn't satisfied, however.

"Then," she said, her eyes narrowing, "why did you have this in your cloak pocket?" And she drew out Harry's cigarettes from her sleeve. Harry frowned. "You actually," he said in a deadly whisper, "went through my belongings?"

That wasn't what Hermione was expecting. She'd expected him to deny it all, or on the contrary, to acknowledge it. "Well what was I supposed to do?" she said hotly, "you've been smelling like that a lot since the beginning of term, I had to find out if you were smoking!"

Harry snorted. "Did you now?" he sneered, "Did you _have_ to find out? Did you have to spy on your _friend_, Hermione? Couldn't wait for me to tell you myself, could you? Couldn't ask me directly, without invading my privacy?"

"I did ask you!" she exclaimed, "Just now! But you lied!" Harry narrowed his eyes. "Oh no, I didn't," he hissed, "I didn't lie at all. I told you some people had smoked, didn't I? I said that on purpose, Hermione. I _was_ one of these people. Only I didn't want to say so in front of them," his eyes drifted towards Ron and Ginny, "because I didn't want them to find out that way. I was going to tell you, all of you, by myself. But you went ahead and asked me in the middle of the Common Room, so I evaded your question and was planning to tell you, _alone_, at a later time," he took his pack from her hand and lit a cigarette, "But you couldn't even have enough patience for that. So here's your statement, Hermione, the one you wanted so badly" he inhaled from his cigarette then, and, exhaling the smoke in front of him in a cloud of grey, finished, "I'm smoking."

Hermione got to her feet, shaking with anger, "You can't" her voice trembled, "blame me for being concerned."

"I'm not," Harry countered, "I'm blaming you for asking me this way and forcing me to tell my friends in such an unpleasant way, when they'd rather have found out by me telling them willingly."

"That's not the issue!" she shouted, "The issue is that you're poisoning yourself! This," she pointed at the offending object, "is going to kill you! Can you understand that?"

"Well," Harry replied, "if I'm smoking, I hardly seem to care, don't I? This will not kill me any faster than the one murderer who threatens my life everyday, simply by being alive."

Everyone knew he was referring to the Dark Lord, and Harry and Hermione also realized that the Common Room had gone silent. Harry took out his wand and cast a spell, saying, "Here. Now the cigarettes I smoke will not smell bad at all. They won't make you cough. Hell, they won't even harm you. The only way you'll be able to tell I'm smoking is if you look at me. I'll be the only one affected by the smoke. Is that good enough? Now if you'll let me, I want to be on my own for while." With that he got up and left for his dormitory.

~*~*~*~

The door slammed shut behind him, and Harry immediately went to his trunk. He searched it for a while, found his blade and took it out. Locking his trunk and the door to the dormitory, he settled on his bed.

He pushed his left sleeve up and looked at the cuts that were there, some of them still not faded. Some of them were white scars, while others were pink and still healing. He took his blade steadily in his right hand and in a swift motion, slashed his inner forearm. He watched, mesmerized, as it took a second or so for the wound to start bleeding. When it started though, it didn't stop. A crimson droplet ran down his arm, onto his robes. He slashed again, and this time the cut wasn't as deep as he'd wanted it to be. Angry, he brought the blade down again, and again and again, making three cuts large and deep enough for his satisfaction. He watched again as the bleeding didn't start right away, but first, the cuts stood there, all white. Then, suddenly, they filled in deep red blood. Once the length of the cut was all red, the blood started oozing out, snaking its way slowly out of the wounds and down his arm, spilling on his bed. He watched the blood spill for a long time, and when it stopped, brought out his wand and cleaned his arm, robes and bed. The cuts had stopped bleeding and he brought his sleeve down, feeling so utterly relaxed and peaceful, he could hardly believe it.

~*~*~*~

Harry was alone in his room, a cauldron simmering in front of him. He'd decided he wasn't going to the meeting after all. This potion would enable the cigarettes drenched in it to do exactly what he'd said earlier about the charm he'd cast. Casting the charm every time was too much work, however, and he wanted to make a potion anyway. The only person who'd taste the smoke would be the smoker. All harmful effects such as bad smell and health-threat would not affect other people, and the smoker himself wouldn't smell. A wonderful invention, in Harry's opinion. The potion was finished and he put it in a vial, stoppered it and placed it in his trunk. He then cleaned his cauldron and utensils, and put the lot away. Taking his Transfiguration book out, he went down to the Common Room to complete his homework.

~*~*~*~

When Harry went down to dinner that Friday, almost one week after the Transylvania Disaster, he didn't sit next to Hermione or Ron, who were sitting together. It had become impossible to tell who was avoiding who, but it was clear that Ron and Ginny were in the middle, not knowing who to side with--if they were siding with someone at all. He went to the other side of the table, where the twins joined him. Harry had found out that even those who weren't there to witness the 'Smoking Argument' knew what had happened. Weirdly enough, the Gryffindors had kept it to themselves, and no one from the other Houses knew anything about their row. Quite on the opposite of what had happened with Harry's and Ron's Conspiracy Theories at the Welcoming Feast. Those, Harry knew, had circulated through the school like wildfire and by the third day, everybody knew of them. But Harry didn't doubt for an instant that the Gryffindor House would soon enough let the proverbial cat out of the bag, as Gryffindor was hardly renowned for its secrecy.

Dumbledore got up suddenly, and everyone hushed. The Headmaster didn't often give speeches, except on Feasts, and everybody wondered what this was about.

"I'm sure all of you know that the 5th years have been to an outing in Transylvania last Saturday" he said, looking around the Hall. At the several nods or murmurs of assent, he continued, "Now what you may also know is that something quite unexpected happened there. They were caught in a Magical Storm, in the middle of a Living Forest. For those of you who don't know, Living Forests are quite rare. One such forest will function as a single living entity. Exploring such a forest is thus like exploring an animal from the inside. Portkeys are, alas, inefficient in such places, for the Forest has a defense mechanism like every live being, and doesn't allow for things he considers parasites. But Magical Storms are also quite rare happenings, and occur only in places full of magic, when the place is experiencing an important change, or mutation. It's quite difficult to get out of a Magical Storm unscathed when one is caught inside it. The only way out of there is to Apparate, but our students could only rely on their professors. Now Professor Dunkirk had been called away to the ministry, for as you know, she's an Auror. It seems the Ministry had a problem in Knockturn Alley, and needed her help. It is also important that you should know that the ministry is currently quite unbalanced, for a lot of their Aurors are on strike. I won't go into the inner politics of our Ministry, but let it be said that your Defense teacher will not be able to teach as often as one would have liked. Professor Severus Snape, on the other hand, was there to help our students come out of the Forest unharmed, and for that we are eternally thankful. But he wasn't alone, as I'm sure you've been told, for Mr. Remus Lupin was there also, and though he had an errand of his own, that didn't stop him from helping half the students make it back here safely."

A lot of the students were talking excitedly between themselves by that point, even though what had happened in Transylvania was no secret at all. Some were interested in the intricacies of Magical Storms, Living Forests and Portkeys, like the Ravenclaws. Some, mostly Hufflepuffs, were wondering what the ministry could have done to cause Aurors to go on strike, and were praising Lupin while asking themselves if he'd been able to run his personal errand after all, questioning what that errand might be. Others, and these were in a majority occupying the Gryffindor table, were wondering what had happened in Knockturn Alley and if all of this had anything to do with the Death Eaters. And finally, there were those, like the Slytherins and Harry, who were wondering what _exactly_ was happening in the Ministry, because they hadn't missed the imperceptible frown that had crossed the Headmaster's lips when he'd spoken of it's 'inner politics', and they were also wondering what the Headmaster was going to announce now, for they realized what he'd said so far could hardly be the point of his speech. It had something to do with what Dumbledore had said about professor Dunkirk's future availability, a matter which Hermione wondered about also, though for quite different reasons than the Slytherins and Harry. While she was wondering how they would complete their lessons now, the others wanted to know about the headmaster's ulterior motives for stating all of this.

Dumbledore cleared his throat and the students who had been talking (99 percent of the student population) turned their attention back to him. "Now, most of the students didn't fail to send letters to their parents to alert them of what had transpired, early Sunday morning, which caused quite a commotion in the owlery, for the place is far too small to hold the entire, or almost the entire throng of Hogwarts students; and I don't ever remember seeing that many distressed owls and feathers in all my time at Hogwarts. After that, I've been literally showered with letters from concerned parents, and my fireplace was in quite a state from all the conversations I've had." Harry suddenly realized he hadn't written to Sirius about that, and wondered what his Godfather would think. Oh well, he'd just write to him later... After all, Lupin had probably told him already. "All of the parents, well, almost all of them, seemed to agree on one point, though, and they were all praising Mr. Lupin for his timely help. I expect this has mostly to do with your letters" the Headmaster's eyes twinkled at the students as he continued, "for I've been led to believe, by what your parents said, that you've told them how very grateful you were to him, and how you'd realized it was unfair that such a man, who apparently cared for your well-being, should be out of his job--" here Dumbledore's eyes flickered to the Hufflepuff table "--while some of you told them what he'd done and praised his knowledge and experience--" he looked at the Ravenclaws "--and others lauded his bravery--" Gryffindors "--and even those of you who only related the events--" Slytherins "--didn't fail to move your parents. I will not say every adult agreed about this, but the vast majority of them did. Your parents also know how hard it is for me to find a Defense teacher, and how Professor Dunkirk has other, more important engagements. The Board of Governors assembled, of course, and it was finally decided that Mr. Remus Lupin will be allowed to exercise his teaching duties again."

Whatever the headmaster wanted to say after that was inaudible, due to an unprecedented uproar of shouts, cheers, whoops, jumps, and clapping. Harry noticed that the Slytherins were divided in three groups at these news. Some were openly cheering, ignoring the second group who were frowning, muttering and glaring, while the third group, which included Malfoy, were being carefully inexpressive. But Harry didn't fail to realize that such a division existed also among the Ravenclaws, and, surprisingly, at the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables too. Though, he noticed, those muttering were present only among Slytherins and Ravenclaws, the inexpressive ones were present everywhere. It was only when Malfoy locked gazes with him that he realized he hadn't reacted either. From the corner of his eye, he saw Dumbledore was looking at him. Malfoy raised an eyebrow. And then, next to him, the twins started dancing on the table, cheering louder than anyone, and singing Merlin knew what. Harry chose that instant to tear his gaze away from the blonde Slytherin, and started clapping and smiling with everyone else. When his eyes drifted to the Head Table, he noticed Snape looking at him too, while Dumbledore was laughing at the twins, and McGonnagall was standing up, looking thoroughly vexed and ready do dispel detentions if they didn't stop goofing around. After all, the twins were stepping in everyone's food, and more than a few people were getting angry.

Thankfully, the two Weasleys settled down before McGonnagall could take any more steps, and the Hall quieted once again. Dumbledore finally finished his speech, by saying that for now, Lupin wouldn't take all the teaching duties, but would be working _with _professor Dunkirk. But that information didn't spoil the mood at all. That's about the time the students realized that Lupin had been in the Hall all along, carefully hidden in a corner, for he now walked up to the Head Table, grinning slightly, and sat down in a seat that had conveniently appeared for him.

~*~*~*~ * ~*~*~*~

A/R: There. Phew. Finished. I wish I could tell you when the next chapter will be out, but my Finals start in less than a month, and as I haven't been going to classes for 3 weeks, I have no idea when I'll find the time with all the studying I have to do... I'm behind in all my classes. This sucks.

Anyways, please leave a review. I mean, the chapter sucked all right, but I'm hoping I managed to make Remus' reappearance as a teacher a little more realistic and plausible than those fics in which he just _happens_ to come back. Though I'm probably the number one fan of those fics, I wanted to try making it realistic... You guys should go read _Iniga_'s stories. Now there's a wonderful author. She's the one who inspired me (among a wide number of other wonderful authors, one of which, surprisingly, actually _reviewed_ this--I'm talking about Ariana Deralte, check her stories out), so you can imagine.. if you like this, you'll love them. What did you think, then? Self-mutilation good enough for you? Oh and don't worry, I intend on having Snape give Harry a good kick in the ass pretty soon... And there's some foreshadowing in here too, I expect you'll like it...

Anyone who leaves a review will receive a letter alerting them of the next update, if I can manage it...

_Terra Aeris_


	5. A Voluntary Outcast?

**Chapter V: A Voluntary Outcast?**

**FAQ:**

**Q: _So, you finally deigned posting another chapter, did you? _**

_(aka: What took you so long??!)_

**A: **_I know. Or actually, I _don't_ know. My computer was being a right pain, for one. I had author's block, for two. There's this flashback scene in this chapter, and I couldn't bring myself to write it… I can, in normal circumstances, write such scenes, but my entire motivation went out the window for reasons unclear… And then, after I was done procrastinating, it was simply 'too late' and I was persuaded that no one would care about the fic anymore. Needless to say, your reviews quickly changed that misguided opinion, and my urge to write caught up with me._

_I think what helped the most was OoTP, and the one-shot I wrote recently (called "The Making of A Slytherin")._

****

**Q: _Umm, I haven't _read_ OoTP yet…_**

**A:**_ Well, this chapter doesn't include Spoilers. If you haven't read the 5th book, and still want to read this fic, let me know. For now, I don't intend on including Spoilers, but the prospect is tantalizing. So let me know, or go to Kazaa and download it like a proper Slytherin._

**Q: _So what about the romance and/or pairing issue?_**

**A:**_For now, no pairing is in sight. There are hints dropped here and there, for those looking, but my characters haven't made up their minds, and neither have I. One thing is sure though: the primary characters are going to stay single for a long while yet. I don't want to disclose anything else, only that if hormones get involved, it'll be angsty, and it'll be necessary for the plot. Everything I do is done for one reason only: drama, angst, and The Dark. Remember why you read this fic, and know that my writing will not_ drastically change.__

**Q: _Didn't you have a Yahoo!Group?_**

**A:**_ Yes, it changed. The e-mail address is now hpadr@yahoogroups.com. I use it so I can notify you all of updates, so please take the time to sign up if you want to be told. It's so much trouble otherwise._

**Standard** **Disclaimer: Are you really reading this? Why? Because you it's a standing joke most of the time and authors use it to say the most ridiculous and nonsensical things? I see your point.**

**Notes about this chapter: **Some Draco/Harry interaction, where we are made to wonder what really is going on; new developments on the Harry/Hermione feud: we find out some things about Hermione while their mutual friends try to deal with the aftermath; one interesting DADA lesson; the brief appearance of a forgotten character; some partying of the extreme kind; a potions fiasco; a trip to the Hospital Wing; some Unforgivables; very hard feelings; and a catalyst that looks like the beginning of Harry's troubles; all this coupled with a good deal of Snape. Oh, and add in a dose of very _un_-funny attempts at comic relief...

**PG-13:** For swearing, Unforgivables, blood, child abuse, and evil policies.

~*~*~*~ * ~*~*~*~

            Saturday morning found Harry in the library, working tirelessly on his DADA essay. He'd been there for only half an hour when Malfoy wandered in. The blonde sat in a chair at the other side of the Gryffindor's desk, looking for all the world like he was sunbathing. Harry glanced at him. He took a moment to remind himself that it was _crucial_ to his plans to get along with Malfoy... Well, not exactly _get along_ with him, but a certain amount of lack of open hostility was required if he wanted to get on Malfoy's good side... He _needed_ the Slytherin to stop thinking about him as an enemy... that was the only way to go through with the idea he'd had during the Feast on their first night back at Hogwarts. Then, turning back to the book he was reading, he said offhandedly: "I hope you're not under the assumption that you're here to twiddle your thumbs."

            "Nay, Potter, I'm here to watch you write our essay." Harry didn't bat an eyelid, he only pushed three heavy volumes in front of Malfoy. "While writing your share of it and making sure that I don't mess it all up" he answered, returning to his book.

            The Slytherin sneered, "Oh I highly doubt the student with the highest grades in Defence since his first year could mess up an essay."

Harry was shocked, though he kept his eyes firmly on his book, in a stance lacking totally in reaction, as he'd been forced to learn to do under the tutelage of the Dursleys. It was true that he had always excelled in his Dark Arts lessons, no matter what teacher he was under (except, possibly, in Lockhart's first test, but the man had seized grading their knowledge of his personal life's intricacies after having been ridiculed in the Duelling Club---though, as that hadn't lessened his grandly frustrating show of vanity, or any other of his frustrating mannerisms--everything he did, in short--one had to wonder if he'd realised he had been ridiculed at all...). 

Sure, Hermione had never been far behind him, and neither had Malfoy, but he still had managed to have slightly better grades. That was the only class where he had good grades, however. And Hermione was top of the class in everything else, which is why everyone always noticed Hermione's prowess. Not to mention Harry hardly, if ever, talked in class, thereby not showing he knew anything. Nobody had ever seemed to notice how Harry excelled there, though, and it had never been mentioned. So Harry was surprised that Malfoy had just said it, in fact, he was surprised that someone even _knew_ about that. Everybody always concentrated on the 'Boy-Who-Lived' aspect of his persona, and up until now, he'd been prepared to bet that Malfoy was first in line among the people who did so (right up there with Snape).

            But Malfoy was acting oddly. That much was crystal clear. In fact, the other boy had been acting oddly non-hostile since the Transylvania fiasco, almost as much as Harry had tried to. That was most definitely intriguing... He pushed that to the back of his mind to wonder on later, and settled for raising his eyes towards those of his erstwhile archenemy and saying, "I could mess it up for you. There's no way I'm letting you take credit for my work."

            At that Malfoy made a great show of sighing dramatically, as if all his hopes had been crushed, and asked: "Well then, what have you done so far?"

~*~*~*~

            When Harry entered the Common Room later that day, his essay thankfully finished, he noticed the seats by the fireplace were empty, and immediately took the most comfortable one. Ginny came and sat next to him shortly after he was engrossed in a book on Potions brewing theory.

            "Ron and Hermione are off with their Defence assignment partners, writing their essays," she said conversationally. Harry, eyes still on a chapter about the many paradoxes between an ingredient's nature and its function, said indifferently: "I've noticed. I was down in the library moments ago."

            "Mm-hmm," was Ginny's only comment. They sat there in silence for a while; he engrossed in his book, sprawled on the armchair with a foot dangling to one side and his black wizard's attire contrasting sharply with his pale white skin, while the firelight coming from his left made his eyes shine a green gold; she sitting cross-legged in the sofa right in front of the fireplace, staring into the flaming depths between her and which stood a semi-circular oak table, the fire casting her long, softly curling hair in a vibrant red and making her eyes shine with hints of scarlet, her second-hand casual robes looking strangely elegant on her and matching her perfectly in their dark purple hue.

            Without tearing her gaze from the fire, Ginny spoke. "I don't think it's that big a deal that you smoke, you know. I may or may not wish that you stop, but that won't stand in the way of our--" she hesitated "-- friendship... Or at least, it shouldn't. Bill smokes. I've known it since last summer, though Mum and Dad only found out this summer. Ron has known too, but I don't think he ever mentioned it. It never bothered me. I can't speak for anyone else, but I personally find it quite foolish that we should drift apart over such an irrelevant matter. Even though we've never been any close, I still miss playing Exploding Snap with you and sitting by the fire at night, doing nothing in particular... that sort of thing." She looked at him now, not without a hint of anger in her eyes, something that had been faintly present in her speech too, when she'd mentioned how foolish their drifting apart appeared to her.

            Harry had never been subject to such a speech in his entire life. He didn't have any friends before Hogwarts, for one, and any point his Uncle had wanted to make had always been made by way of punches or belts (among other, even less pleasant things). Even when he was with Hermione or Ron, they'd never drifted apart except during the Tournament, and Ron hadn't made such a show of reconciliation--not that Harry had wanted him to apologize when it had come to it. Ginny wasn't apologizing, true, but she had put him in a rather uncomfortable situation. He wasn't angry with _her_ anyway; he was just miffed at Hermione for several--legitimate--reasons. But that didn't help him in knowing how to react to Ginny. She might be used to such things, having grown up in such a crowded family as that of the Weasleys', but he most definitely was not.

            And that's exactly why he reacted the way he did, without moving an inch from his earlier position--as he hadn't done throughout her speech either--when he simply shrugged, without lifting his eyes from his book, and said, "All right, then". And that's, probably, what made Ginny sigh the way she did, as if she was feeling utterly helpless.

~*~*~*~

_CRASH! The plate slipped from five-year-old Harry's fingers, as he tried vainly to hold on to it. He wasn't experienced in doing the dishes yet, and this accident just proved it. It was just his luck that he should break one of Aunt Petunia's favourite dishes. Green eyes widened in fear and the boy froze. Petunia was on the scene seconds later._

_"What have you done?!" she screamed shrilly. He turned to look at her, half-formed apologies stumbling from his lips. She would have none of it._

_"__VERNON__!"_

_Harry inhaled sharply. "But, Aunt Petunia... I'm--I'm sorry! I didn't mean to, I..." She slapped him. "Shut your mouth, boy! Don't ever talk out of turn again! Your Uncle will deal with you, just you wait." Trembling with not-so-suppressed rage, she set about to clean the mess, eyes tearing up as she took the state her dish was in._

_Vernon came into the kitchen, and Harry didn't hear the brief exchange of words between him and his Aunt, as he tried to close out the reality of this situation. Tough luck, though. __Vernon__ snarled a brief "Out, boy" which somehow the young child managed to hear, and Harry followed his enraged Uncle into another part of the house. Vernon's study, he noted absently._

_"You, boy, are going to learn some manners. I won't have you break our belongings like that, we already spend more than enough money on you as it is!" The towering man unmade his belt, pulling it free of the pants. "You ungrateful, stumbling, clumsy freak!"_

_At five years old, Harry didn't know better than keep silent. He tried apologizing, making a case for himself, promising to be good. But the words progressively died down in his throat as __Vernon__'s expression grew more and more distorted with rage and disgust._

_"Shut your filthy trap!" his uncle snarled, kicking him in the stomach. Harry cried out._

_"Shut up, I tell you, how daft can one get?!" __Vernon__ backhanded him forcefully. After a while, Harry must have stopped shouting in pain, for his Uncle stopped admonishing him for that particular slight. Or did the man simply get used to it? Harry didn't know, nor cared, for at that moment he realized why the belt had been taken off._

Not the belt_, he thought. _Please, not the belt_. After the first five or so hits from his Uncle's buckle-handed belt, his pleas seemed to be answered: his Uncle stopped._

_And then the man produced an unholy sound somewhere between a shriek and a shout, and Harry was lifted up by his hair._

_"What did you do, boy?! Where is my belt?! You're going to pay dearly for this one! Where did it go, where?"_

_It took some more manhandling for Harry to understand what was going on. But as he began protesting that he had no idea where the belt was or what had happened, he was kicked and dragged towards the bathroom._

_Harry only realized he was in the bathroom a lot later, though. Right now he was vaguely aware of cold marble under his skin, painful blows to his body, and Vernon's stream of insults and accusations that the boy was being a freak and losing belts and would pay most dearly indeed…_

_Then Harry was wet all over the face and he swallowed water, not knowing where it came from. He opened his eyes, realizing he couldn't breathe, and grew petrified at the realization that he was actually being drowned. This was the first time it ever happened, and when his Uncle pulled him out, Harry could only dazedly inhale before he was under the water again. He didn't have time – or the lucidity – to think of anything, so terrified was he that he might _die_ at any moment… any moment now because of a belt… where was the belt..? He couldn't breathe._

_He couldn't _breathe.__

_He inhaled… and choked, of course, on water. He also choked _in_ water, which made everything far less easy and there was a pounding sound in his ears as his vision blackened._

_His Uncle brought him out again, sneering. "Bet you're feeling smart now, are you, losing the belt like that? Freak. There are worst things than proper disciplinary sessions, I'll have you know. Bet you want the belt now, do you?"_

_And Harry coughed out water, gasped and choked, but nodded fervently while trying to catch his breath. His uncle laughed, and then kicked him around some more. Harry was feeling drained, weak, and decided to simply wait it out. His Uncle would be done soon enough anyway. He did fervently wish, though, during every beating to come, that belts didn't disappear or freaky things didn't happen that would incur __Vernon__'s ire more._

_A beating he could do with. Drowning, he couldn't. And anyway, it was his fault for breaking the plate. He should know better, if he stopped being bad, none of this would happen._

~*~*~*~

            Harry woke up groaning. He'd had a horrible night. He picked up his glasses, put them on, and looked at the alarm clock on his bedside table, which, he saw, was flashing him an urgent message in red:

            "YOU'RE LATE FOR CLASS!"

            Cursing, he jumped out of bed, noticed dimly that nobody else was in the dorm, dressed in a flash, grabbed his book bag (which he'd thankfully organized the day before) and dashed out of the room. He shot through the Common Room so fast that Fred and George, who didn't have a class, couldn't find enough time to say something funny, and the Fat Lady fairly shrieked in surprise when she was banged open. Lee Jordan jumped out of his way as Harry dived through the Portrait hole, and even the staircases seemed to sense his hurry, for they, for the first time in the history of Hogwarts, cooperated.

            He arrived in front of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, took a moment to catch his breath and compose himself (and he was eternally grateful that he had a wand at that precise moment, for with a few waves of it, he not only looked, but felt awake), and opened the door. The door was at the front of the classroom, sadly, and he immediately attracted the whole class's attention. Lupin was calling the roll.

            He raised his eyes to those of his professor's, nodded and opened his mouth when the door opened once more and Malfoy came in, looking as relaxed as Harry himself, and he had no doubt that the Slytherin had used his wand to appear calm and awake too. But the lack of gel in his fair hair gave him away: he'd barely just woken up.

            A smile was tugging at the corners of the Professor's mouth, and he said: "Well, good morning. I was just calling the roll, so you can take your seats." There were free seats in the front, but Harry immediately headed for the back of the room, and he'd barely sat down when it was his turn to answer "present".

            They were then asked to hand over their essays, and he passed his to Neville, who was sitting in front of him, checking that Malfoy hadn't forgotten his half either. Lupin then gathered their papers and turned to the class. "Professor Dunkirk, you've noticed, is not here for she was called away to the Ministry" he said. He then sat down on his desk and continued, "Now, we all know you have the OWLs at the end of the year, but that won't be our only focus in this class. 5th year is the year in which you start including the theoretical approach to your studies in Magic. That is fundamental for you to understand the inner workings of Magic, and will be very important for your personal projects next year." He got up then, and turned towards the blackboard, waved his wand and the chalk started scribbling something. He announced: "This will be the subject of today's class." They looked back at the blackboard and saw the question: 'What is Dark Magic?'

            The students stared. They would hardly have thought that a Defence lesson could be something other than learning new defensive or offensive curses, or than studying new repulsive creatures.

            "Anyone?" No one raised their hand. Harry looked at Hermione. She looked like she had an idea about what she could reply. No, scratch that. She looked like she had a billion ideas about what she could reply. And she didn't know which one to choose, or which one would please the professor. That was exactly how everyone felt. There were too many different ways in which one could answer, and no one knew what the professor would want to hear. In the past, it had been easier: there was one single response and you either knew it or you didn't. The students didn't even know if he wanted a definition or an example.

            Hermione raised her hand. "Yes?" Lupin said. "Dark Magic is that branch of Magic whose power one taps into when they cast Dark curses, or when they use the Dark Arts."

            Lupin inclined his head to the side, saying "Did you read that in a book?" She nodded. The Professor turned back to the class. "All right then, can anyone answer this: what are the Dark Arts?"

            Hermione looked perplexed. After all, the answer to that particular question was kind of obvious after what she'd just said.

            Malfoy raised his hand, Harry saw. Professor Lupin nodded at him. "The Dark Arts are," the blonde answered, "what the Ministry has deemed and classified as illegal magic. Nothing more, nothing less." There was defiance in his very stance, not only in his voice, as he said that.

            And the class broke into a sudden explosion of noise and shouts, as an argument arose. The Gryffindors were arguing that the Dark Arts were Dark Magic, while the Slytherins were saying that that had nothing to do with it, that Dark Magic wasn't equal to Dark Arts.

            "Dark Magic isn't always deemed illegal by the law! We use Dark Magic everyday!" Pansy Parkinson said indignantly.

            "Are you out of your mind?" Lavender was disbelieving. "Dark Magic is illegal! The Ministry would never let us use it! The Dark Arts are magic designed to benefit only the caster, at the _expense of others, so of course they're Dark Magic!"_

            Some students wisely kept their mouths shut, however. Neville, Parvati and Harry were among them.

            "Enough" said Lupin, with a voice that held such authority that the students hushed. "Both sides have good arguments; however I award Slytherin 5 points for Mr. Malfoy's answer. He's right."

            The Gryffindors, well, the majority of them, looked on in shock. "The Dark Arts aren't Dark Magic, and that's exactly what I wanted you to learn. The reason books say that Dark Magic is tantamount to Dark Arts is that the authors want people to believe that. There have always been, however, those who could acquire ancient texts, most of them deemed illegal, but that explain what Dark Magic is. Some of those texts are legal; and some, the property of ancient wizarding families--when only one copy exists, and thus cannot be classified illegal for they are personal possession. Some people," he went on extremely seriously, "don't want citizens to know the paradox that takes place everyday when Light wizards and Dark wizards fight. And the fight, the same fight that goes on today as Voldemort" the students flinched, "has his body back, stems widely from the fact that some people _do_ know of that paradox. The Dark Arts are only what the Ministry classifies as illegal.

"However, everything that is Dark Arts is Dark Magic, while not everything that is Dark Magic is Dark Arts. You should copy this down," he added, and everyone grabbed a quill (except for Harry, Hermione, Malfoy, and Bullstrode, who'd been writing). "Can anyone give me an example of Dark Magic that is legal?"

            Ron, looking as if his whole perspective of things had shifted incredibly, tentatively raised his hand. As Lupin nodded at him, he said, "Obliviate?" Lupin smiled. "Indeed. The Memory Charm taps into Dark Magic for it has a characteristic that anything stemming from the Dark Power has: it invades the freedom of an individual. It imposes itself on someone, on their Will. The way it is used today, one could say that it only benefits the caster, at the expense of the castee*. Its use is strictly controlled by the ministry, however it is quite difficult to condemn someone on the grounds that he's cast the Charm, for the victim hardly remembers it. Curses are Dark Magic, for they are offensive. _Anything_ that is offensive magic is Dark Magic. To avoid confusion, we will refer in this class to Dark Magic as Black Magic--another term sometimes used--, and to Light Magic as White Magic. The Dark Arts are what are officially illegal, while what some people call Light Magic, and what is in fact the Light Arts, is what has been classified as legal."

            They went on to discuss the significance of what he'd just told them, the power of the law and ethics in such a matter, and why Black Magic wasn't evil but what _was_ evil was the _use_ one made of Black Magic. When the 2-hour long class drew to end, he assigned them an essay with the topic: 'Discuss and illustrate the ethics and implications of our use of Black Magic'. 

            As the class filed out to go to lunch, Lupin asked Harry to stay behind. He closed the door and smiled warmly at him, placed his elbows behind him on his desk, leaning on it, and said: "Hello Harry. It feels nice to see you again." Harry smiled a bit, nodding, and replied: "You too, Sir."

            Lupin looked at him pensively, then seemed to shake himself and went on: "Well, Padfoot wanted me to tell you he's alright, and that he's staying at a friend's house, though he can't tell you who it is. He also said to write to your old baby sitter if you need anything, apparently she's to be trusted," he winked, "But I personally wanted to find out how you're feeling since I last saw you."

            "Oh, I'm alright, Sir, thank you." he smiled reassuringly. Lupin nodded slowly, and then sighed; sitting on his desk in much the same way he'd done during class. "Well, I just wanted to add that I'd be glad if you ever came by to talk, whether something's wrong or not. Just feel free to come grab a cup of tea whenever you feel like it." Harry smiled again, thanking him for the offer, trying to give the impression that he _would_ come to see the older wizard--when in fact he had no such intention, at least not right now--and he left the classroom to go down to lunch.

~*~*~*~

            Harry grunted. He opened his eyes and dimly noticed a stormy figure looming above him. Instinctively, he drew away, making his chair scrape the floor as it distanced itself from the desk. That's how he realized he was in class. He closed his eyes, preparing himself for whatever tongue-lashing he had coming, opened his eyes again and focused them on the professor.

            "Potter. Falling asleep in my class _again_. Tell me boy, how many detentions do you need to get it through your thick skull that the sine qua non of learning is to pay attention?" the voice was scathing, as Snape's voice always was when he addressed him. Harry didn't answer, because he couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't make his situation worse. "Come see me after class," the Potion's Master said in a bored tone.

            Harry sighed. This was getting frustrating. "Oh, and 10 points from Gryffindor" Snape added as if it had just occurred to him. Harry grunted again.

~*~*~*~

            He sat down for dinner, the twins taking seats next to him shortly after that. Harry realized when the twins didn't even look at Ron or Hermione that they were making a statement by sitting with him every time they were down in the Great Hall. Clearly, they were trying to convey to whoever took the time to ponder the situation that they thought Harry had been right to act the way he did. That had been an issue in Gryffindor Tower since their argument, and almost everyone had voiced their opinion about who had been right, or at least, who had been _more_ right than the other, though nobody talked about it in public. Harry knew of this from the snippets of conversation that abruptly stopped when he was seen, and from the looks he was receiving.

            He looked around the room, just so he didn't have to see the looks he was sure were being shot his way at the Gryffindor table, and as his eyes drifted to the other side of the Hall, he noticed something intriguing: the Slytherin table. He closed his eyes for a moment and thanked Merlin that Snape had decided he didn't want to deal with Harry's detention that night. Tonight, Harry was entirely free to do as he pleased. And there was something that he had been looking forward to. He opened his eyes again, keeping them on the far wall, and smirked.

            The Slytherin table was devoid of any student above 4th year.

            Harry told the twins he wasn't hungry, and left the Great Hall. He went up the marble staircase in the Entrance Hall, took a sharp turn right and looked behind him. Nobody was following him. Good... he didn't think the Slytherins would be too happy if he was followed--not that they'd appreciate the fact that _Potter_ came to their party anyway...

            He entered a secret passage that probably wasn't used so often because it took longer than the actual path, and made his way to the Dungeons. He came in front of the Potions classroom, looked around once again and entered. Millicent Bullstrode was there, stirring a blue-black potion that was frothing on the fire. She looked up at him.

            "Professor Snape is at dinner, not that I think he'd want to see you if he was here anyway" she informed him. Harry had to resist the urge to snort, and answered, "Oh, I'm not looking for him." He had to think of a way to phrase what he was about to say correctly, which didn't take him long. "I was up in the Great Hall moments ago myself, and couldn't fail to notice a majority of Slytherins missing. It's them I'm looking for."

            She looked at him sceptically. "And what made you think you could find them here?" she asked.

"Someone once told me," he said offhandedly, "that if I ever noticed a majority of Slytherins missing at dinner, I should come to the Potions Classroom. And I'm apparently on the right track, since one of them--you--is here."

            She scowled in suspicion. "Really, now? What else did this person tell you?"

Harry shrugged. "It happened in the Knight Bus on my way to King's Cross. He told me a few things. What do you want to know?"

She turned back to her potion, as it was making weird noises, and frowned a bit at it. "The question is," she said, "what do you have to tell me?"

Harry shrugged nonchalantly and said, "I could say _Deus Ex Machina_, if it means anything to you."

            She seemed impressed. "Well well well..." she murmured, "I'd never thought I'd see the day... Come." She closed the door with a wave of her wand and led him to the side of the classroom where the sinks were. Tapping her wand on the wall in between two rows of sinks, and placing her left palm on the same spot afterwards, she explained to him that he had to go down the stairs and he'd be there. She then knocked four times, and the secret passage opened, revealing a twisting corridor that gradually went down, finishing in a row of stairs.

"Thank you," he said pleasantly, and entered.

            The moment the gate closed behind him, Harry stopped walking. The passage was lit with torches, and he could see he was the only one there, but that didn't stop his anxiety. He took a moment to praise himself for his paranoia and removed his shrunken Invisibility Cloak from his pocket, returned it to normal size and draped it upon himself. He'd taken enough of a risk as it was in coming down here. He wasn't about to make the job easier for anyone (except for himself) if this was a trap.

            He took the stairs and arrived in another corridor that ended in a huge and beautiful stone Gothic archway. The ceiling was very high here, and he couldn't help but be impressed. He dimly wondered if this passage appeared on the Marauder's Map, and promised himself to check it later - the day he recovered the map, that is. He passed through the archway and entered a huge room, with seven grandiose fireplaces and walls of stone. It was crowded. All the Slytherins who hadn't been at dinner were there, eating, drinking, dancing or doing just about _anything_ (and even if Harry had let his imagination run wild, he couldn't have thought of a party that seemed to include all sorts of entertainments, and seemed able to please every single person on the planet at the same time--given that they showed tolerance to other people's ways of having fun). Well, they weren't doing anything obscene or private, but Harry supposed there were rooms for that.

            He went back out in the corridor, took his cloak off, becoming visible, shrunk it and placed it in a pocket. He then entered the room again. But he stood there for a moment, not knowing exactly what to do.

            A few people noticed him immediately. They stopped whatever they'd been doing and looked at each other inquisitively. Some of them started whispering among them, and one of them sneered something at Malfoy, who was not far. Harry couldn't hear what he said though. Malfoy approached him immediately. He stopped in front of him and raised an eyebrow. 

"Potter? Did you get lost?" he was feigning concern.

One side of Harry's lips quirked up into a half-smile. "Not that I'm aware of. I had the password, didn't I?"

"And that's exactly what I fail to understand." The Slytherin was staring at him intensely, looking as if he couldn't quite decide whether to laugh or to reach for his wand.

            Now it was Harry's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Not very perceptive, are you? Obviously, if I could get in, I was probably _let_ in."

"You do realize that you're in a room full of Slytherins, don't you? Insulting me might not be the best tactical option at the moment, as far as Gryffindor ingenuity goes."

Harry sighed. Malfoy was right about something there: he wasn't getting anywhere by engaging in a witty repartee match with the boy. Plus, he _did_ need to be agreeable with the boy... It was essential. But it was fun to insult him. So he wasn't about to stop, especially since he had no idea about what else he could say. He'd always talked this way with the Malfoy, and in every other situation that warranted it, too... and right now he couldn't think of any situation that didn't warrant a need for witty retorts. Though, he reasoned, it really wasn't a good idea to start insulting people whose party you wanted to join...

            "Gryffindor ingenuity goes a long way, if you must know, and I doubt Slytherins would attack a guest. You may lack hospitality skills, but not so much as to point your wands at someone who was obviously invited into your midst."

At that, Malfoy grinned, the first time he'd ever seen the boy do so sincerely. There was this glint in his eyes, as if he'd won the jackpot. Then Harry realized that Malfoy's eyes weren't focused on him anymore, and the boy was grinning to himself. He turned around, so that Harry was now facing the other boy's back, and addressed the people in the room, who had been waiting patiently.

"He passed the test," he said simply, in an I-told-you-so voice, "now how much do you guys owe me again?"

            Harry stared, utterly bewildered. _What?_

~*~*~*~

            Most of the other Slytherins in the room sighed. Then, slowly, a good many of them started taking out their pouches, while the rest of the students, a considerable minority that included Pansy Parkinson, were holding out their hands and grinning. Malfoy strode to where a tall boy and some other older people were standing. Then Harry was subjected to the sight of Slytherins groaningly taking Sickles, Knuts, or even Galleons out, begrudgingly handing them over to others, who in turn grinned even more and pointed out that the amount owed was more than that, and received scowls and frowns in return... and the rest of their money. Harry belatedly realised that this was the aftermath of a bet. A bet... about him.

            "Nick" came Malfoy's drawling voice, "is your memory running short? Or are you hoping I'm too rich for my own good? Because that'll never happen."

            "Alright, alright," Nicholas Higheagle, whom Harry recognized as a 7th year Slytherin, and who also happened to be Head Boy, sighed. "Here's your money."

Malfoy didn't seem satisfied yet, though. "What else do you owe me, again?"

He fixed the Head Boy with a meaningful gaze, and the other gave in with an exasperated: "Yes, yes. You'll get the position you wanted."

The blonde smirked, turned back to Harry and walked over. "Oh. You're still here," he remarked. Harry realized he couldn't tell if Draco was surprised, annoyed or relieved about that fact.

            "Is that a problem?" he wanted to know. The question was also a subtle invitation for the other boy to tell him why he'd been invited and if he was still welcome. He wouldn't have been surprised if he'd been asked to leave, though he definitely didn't want to. Harry had no doubt that the other boy would detect the hidden questions. This subtle way of talking had been something he'd developed and grown accustomed to in Knockturn Alley. It was standard speech there – and probably in Slytherin as well.

            Draco smiled. An enigmatic smile. "Let's hope it won't prove to be." An even more enigmatic answer. The Slytherin was almost offering him a chance. Harry wondered why. Indeed, _why_ was the blonde being so... well, nice, for lack of a better word... or, nic_er_, to him all of a sudden..?

"Ok, Malfoy. What is this all about? You placed some kind of bet on me?" Maybe it was because of the bet that the Slytherin was acting this way... Then again, maybe not. That explanation didn't make sense anyway.

            "Well," the blonde smiled smugly, "I remember noticing someone acting quite interestingly on the Knight Bus. I invited him to this party, and when the rest of my House thought I had lost any ability to think soundly, I needed a way to assert that I was still a good judge of character. Now, can you blame me for trying to make a little profit out of the matter? I'm deeply sorry if you feel used."

He didn't look remotely repentant.

            Harry laughed. "Malfoy, I'm the one who's lucky you decided to gamble on me. This," he gestured at the party, "is worth having you gloat about your ingenuity for the whole evening."

            The blonde sighed. "I'm still not sure all this money was worth the trouble of having you here, though."

            Harry was looking at the many people in the room at that point, and didn't answer as he saw something that caught his attention. _Red hair.__ Dark, wine-coloured, long and sleek red hair._ He remembered something. _Purple-lit dark room... A girl asking weird questions... Sounds of paper shuffling... The wand shop in Knockturn Alley. The girl had red hair..._ So this was the girl in the wand shop. She turned around, and he saw her face clearly. He set his jaw tight. This was her. So she was a Slytherin... How could he not have recognized her before? He mustn't be that perceptive... Not that it was easy in such a crowded school to know everyone... Still, he was relieved to see he had indeed been right in thinking he knew her, even though he felt a little peeved that he hadn't recognized her before. The girl's eyes settled on Draco, and she walked over.

            "Hey Draco," she said when she was standing in front of them, smiling, "congratulations, you were right. And thank Merlin, too!" She grinned, showing him her own share of winnings from the bet.

            Draco shrugged, "Did you ever doubt I was?" 

The girl answered promptly, "Yes."

At that, the blonde raised an eyebrow, "Why did you bet, then?"

            She gave him an incredulous look. "It's called gambling," she answered as if the other one had made an exceptional show of stupidity. Draco shook his head. "Blaise, Slytherins don't gamble. They make people believe they do, when in fact they know they're right." Ah, so her name was Blaise. That saved Harry the trouble of introductions.

She laughed. "Then why are there Slytherins who lose bets?" At that, Draco smiled impishly.

"Well, you can't expect everyone to master the Rules of the Trade. Some Slytherins just know better than others."

            At that moment, Millicent Bullstrode came in, and standing on the threshold, sent red sparks that managed to catch everyone's attention. The room quieted. "The potion," she announced, glowing with suppressed glee, "is ready."

            Grins spread on many people's faces, and as Bullstrode summoned the cauldron she had been preparing upstairs, Harry saw a good portion of the Slytherins form a line. The majority, however, seemed totally unconcerned by the 'potion'.

            "Well, Potter," came Malfoy's voice, "do you want to have fun or not?"

He raised his green eyes to stare inquisitively at the Slytherin. "What is this... potion?" he asked suspiciously.

Draco's eyes lit up. "An illegal substance that will make you feel wonderful." Harry had misgivings, though, even as he followed Blaise and Draco in the line. He had doubts telling him that getting used to taking mind-altering substances might not be a good idea. Only, as he lifted his cup to his lips, he didn't listen to them.

He had decided that he somehow needed to 'blend in' to get on Malfoy's good side, and opted for the legendary train of thought _'Just this once'_.

~*~*~*~

            Hopelessly stoned, Harry looked around himself. The batch of potion had been the beginning of his 'conditional acceptance' as an equally stoned Draco had so aptly put it. Apparently, he fit right into the party. Not that there were any specifics required to fit in if you were a Slytherin: any kind of Slytherin was welcome, even if they didn't drink or smoke or play Jenga (which proved to be the most popular game at parties, though Harry would probably never figure out why); but if you were _not_ from Slytherin, you apparently needed to have the most extreme ways of having fun. And that was a quality which, after numerous rounds of weed-smoking, Harry proved himself quite capable of. Now though, he wanted to question the wisdom of feeling so stoned, but his mind didn't seem to work that way anymore. Yet if Malfoy was starting to be even slightly less hostile towards him, it was a good sign--_why_ was Malfoy less hostile?--and he definitely needed to press that advantage. So, without wasting any more thought on the merits of mind-altering substances, he joined Draco in a game of Jenga that proved quite hilarious for those who had their wits intact.

            "No-no-no-nooooo," Draco was shaking his head vigorously, "you _don't_ want to make _that_ move. Oh no, no, definitely no."

            "S-s… sh-shut up!" Harry was grinding his teeth, "I kn-kn... know... it won't fall... Humph." He poked the brick that looked glued into place, and with a jerky hand, managed to pull it out. Parkinson was staring unblinkingly at the hole.

"Now that..." she said, "that... shouldn't've happened. That defies all laws... laws... of gravity and of... everything. All laws of everything! Definitely." She nodded once and started getting to her feet shakily. "It should fall... I know it should fall. It's in my head, falling in my head, really falling, it should not stand. That Jenga tower is teasing us. I'm leaving." She turned on her heel and stormed off, quite put out with the game.

            And then the tower fell. Harry squinted, realizing it hadn't fallen because of his move, but because a giant had fallen on it. A giant... No, not a giant, but _Draco_ had fallen on it, and he was laughing silently, holding his stomach, muttering "Pansy is so stoned! Ha ha..."

            Harry could only stare.

            The night went on in that fashion, until Nick – as he was being called – Higheagle rose, calling for attention.

"Now listen up," he said in a voice that carried all through the big room, "because I'm only going to say this once. At the next party, the password will be _'Super-Cali-Fragi-Listic-Expi-Ali-Docious'_, a quote from Mary Poppins, for those of you who remember the fairytale from your childhoods. I'm told Muggles have the same fairytale. Hope you'll remember it."

            Harry knew that quote only too well, from a time in which Dudley ran around the house with the nonsensical words constantly on his lips, after he'd watched the movie. Though Harry had never watched the movie himself, those words had been imprinted in the back of his mind, as Dudley had driven him crazy by repeating them. To this day, he hadn't been able to figure out how it was that the Dursleys hadn't minded Dudley saying supposedly 'magical' (aka not normal) words, whereas he was punished because of his dreams (an example being the one with the flying motorcycle, which he'd stupidly told Vernon about).

            With that, the party was officially over and Harry returned to his tower, putting on his Invisibility Cloak when he was out of sight of the Slytherins.

~*~*~*~

            When he awoke the next morning, the first thought that rushed into Harry's mind - and was clear enough for him to grasp - was that he had a detention with Snape that day. And the first coherent words he uttered were:

"I hate my life."

            The day passed smoothly enough, except for Trelawney declaring that Harry was about to fall lethally ill in a few short hours. Not that he believed her, but Parvati and Lavender were white upon hearing those news, whispering that they had foreseen the exact same thing.

            When he left the overly perfumed tower, intent on stopping by the Quidditch pitch for some exercise (he'd have gone to the library except that he knew Hermione was there), his plans were delayed by Ron wanting to have a word with him. Harry followed him to Gryffindor Tower, and they settled on their respective beds, secure in the knowledge that the other occupants were in the Common Room, trying to master the transfiguration spell that McGonagall was bound to ask them to do the next day. Though, why learning to transform a pinecone into a rope was deemed productive, was anyone's guess.

            "Harry... I wanted to talk to you about Hermione." Harry grew cold at those words, but tried to remain impassive.

"What about her?" His voice was low and charged with cold anger.

            Ron's determination seemed to grow tenfold at Harry's tone, as if hearing his friend's anger was enough to make him decide that what he was about to say was essential. He raised his eyes and looked at Harry, taking a deep breath.

            "Look. I know you're angry at her and all – "

Harry gave a bitter smile that read all too clearly _'you don't say!'_, but Ron kept going,

" – but you must understand her point of view. See, her father... Well he..." Seeing that Harry was now exasperated, Ron's words tumbled forth like potion spilling out of an overheated cauldron.

"Her father's got lung cancer." Ron sighed and leaned back, his posture speaking the words _'There. I said it.'_

            Harry felt a stab of cold at that. He blinked. But then everything seemed crystal clear.

"I see," he said slowly, "so her father's dying because he smoked one too many cigarettes. And that gives her the right to pry into my stuff?"

            Ron's eyes widened. He'd expected Harry to tell Hermione he was sorry, not carelessly sweep the matter away in favour of his grudge. "Well, no... But..." he was at a loss for words.

            Harry kept going.

"Ron. I can understand that she's sad. I can understand that she's concerned. I can understand that in her confused and grief-stricken mind, she thought she would see a repeat of her father's fate in me. What I _can't_ understand, however, is that she should act the way she did, not only invading my privacy –"

And here Harry thanked Merlin that Hermione hadn't looked into his trunk and found his impressive collection of Dark Arts Books, which were securely locked away under a password anyway, but the thought alone chilled him to the bone, 

"– but putting me on the spot like that. You remember that in the beginning of our first year we thought nobody could be as interfering as her? _Clearly, that hasn't changed. Her respect for us grows thin next to her prying. Mark my words, Ron, if she doesn't do something about that, things could get nasty."_

Again, he thought of her finding his Dark Arts books and rushing to McGonagall as she'd done with the Firebolt. Or worse, she could go to Dumbledore...

"I'm not saying her intentions were bad. I'm saying she was tactless. And I'm saying, as I told her last year when you and I had fallen out, that I'm not prepared to even think of forgiving someone who doesn't say she's sorry. Or more to the point, someone who doesn't even _think_ they've done something wrong."

            Ron nodded slowly.

"You're right. And I... I agree with you. I mean, I see your point. But couldn't you talk to her and tell her that? She'd say she was sorry if you did..."

Harry had already begun shaking his head at the words 'talk to her'.

"I already told her what I thought that very night. And I'm not going to take the first step. It's her move, now. Plus, I'm not even sure I could forgive her that fast this time. This is worse than what she did with the Firebolt in our third year. She also endangered my friendship with Ginny and you, by confronting me in front of you and using you as witness – and I know she wanted you to back her up. And I'd rather you didn't tell her what we just spoke about."

            Ron sighed heavily.

"I won't."

            The matter was closed, then, and they joined Seamus, Dean, and Neville in transfiguring pinecones into ropes.

~*~*~*~

            Harry felt someone shaking him. He groggily opened his eyes, realizing he was waking up – and therefore must have been asleep – and wondered what time it was. He managed to make out sandy-blonde hair before groaning, and was answered by Seamus' voice.

"Harry... Harry, mate, wake up. C'mon. You missed dinner, but Snape will kill you if you miss detention."

            Those few words jolted him back to reality, and he sat up, jamming on his glasses.

"How much time do I have left?"

Seamus grinned. "Half an hour or so. I thought I'd wake you up now, so you can go to the dungeons with your wits up and about. Who knows what Snape would do if you were not fully awake."

            Harry sighed in relief. "Thanks, Seamus."

            He was down in the dungeons at eight o'clock sharp. The door to the classroom was open, and he walked in. Snape was there, writing on a piece of parchment. He finished and handed him the note, saying:

"This is the potion you have to brew."

            Harry nodded, and set his Potions supplies on a table. Looking at the note, he realized that this wasn't the potion they'd brewed in class (during which he'd fallen asleep). He had thought he was supposed to catch up on that. Apparently, though, the professor had decided to give him a very complicated 5th year potion to work on instead, but even though it was on the curriculum, he knew it was one of the most difficult ones this year. Deciding he wouldn't be able to understand his teacher's reasons for wanting Harry to brew the Ageing Potion, he set to work..

~*~*~*~

It came as something of a surprise when Harry realized how incredibly _easy_ this supposedly difficult potion was to him. He knew for a fact that even 6th years struggled with it, which was why it wasn't on the OWLs, even if they started learning about it in 5th year. Yet, to him, this potion was as simple as a Shrinking Potion.

Although he could see _why_ it could prove somewhat challenging. The potion required one's whole, undivided attention. The only thing he had the luxury to think about was the ingredients, if he wanted this to be a success. Not to mention the exact timing that was required, which left him with no instance in which to sit back and relax.

Between all the ingredients preparing, clockwise stirring, ingredient adding, counter-clockwise stirring, and overall second-counting to keep with the deadlines, he wasn't sure if he'd have enough focus left to notice it should Snape decide to decorate the classroom in pink. 

Okay, so maybe he _would _notice that... but that was so beside the point.

            He wondered if all his summer practice had paid off, and he was able to grasp the concepts of potions better than Snape could have expected of his average dunderheaded student. And he also finally understood why potion brewing was magic.

Quite apart from the fact that certain ingredients couldn't be seen by non-magical beings, that other such ingredients would have injured them, or that to prepare them, one needed to work in _concert_ with the ingredients, thus adding magic to the mix by the sheer fact that they were under the handling of a wizard, there was something else, something quintessential... 

_Intention._

It was almost like casting wandless magic through a trance, or meditation. By simply knowing how the potion worked, and willing it to do so, one magically _guided_ it. Harry now understood why Snape was so fascinated by the subject. It was dazzling, to say the least. A wizard co-working with magical ingredients and their abilities, creating something else entirely, something incredibly magical and _powerful_, so that its workings were inexplicable when left in shrewd theory only, yet were still as predictable as one of the most exact arts... potion-brewing was _amazing_. Art and science, the best of both worlds: that's what potions was all about.

            He stirred the potion once clockwise, added the Billywig wings that would enforce the speeding process that was fundamental to ageing, stirred it twice clockwise and waited for the brown fumes to emerge before he could move on.

            Yet he never got to move on.

            Once the potion's fumes started to ascend, he felt a fire in his eyes and mouth, sliding all the way down through his throat to his stomach. He was _burning_ from the inside out. He started to cough heavily, feeling his eyes water, unable to draw breath.

            The last thing he noticed before the world went black was that he was coughing up blood.

~*~*~*~

            Severus had been watching the boy since the beginning of his detention, while grading papers. He had easily noticed that Potter dealt a lot better with potions this year. Too well, in fact. Compared with the boy's abysmal performance last year, this was unnatural. Severus had immediately started suspecting something was wrong, of course. He wasn't Head of Slytherin, and hadn't been one of the most feared Slytherins in his House while he was a student, for nothing.

            Quite apart from the fact that he could detect underhanded plots, secrecy, intrigues, deceit and manipulations, even inside the already labyrinthine entanglements of lies, pacts and compromises that was Slytherin House, he knew the boy was hiding something simply because it was so obvious. His apparent ease in brewing potions which would have been almost impossible to him last year pointed towards one thing and one thing only: practice. Oh, the boy was by no means stupid, and he'd always had a mind that could grasp the subject's intricacies and need for discipline. As far as Severus recalled, Potter had been the best in his class of Gryffindors, after Granger and Thomas. Yet... Severus knew the boy could outshine Granger or Thomas (though definitely not Draco) if he put his mind to it.

            And now, in front of his very eyes, he was doing so. The Ageing Potion wasn't impossible to a Fifth year, merely so difficult that none were able to brew it before Sixth year. He doubted Draco would have any problems with it, though. And Granger would probably go to the library, memorize every book on the subject, and brew it on autopilot, keeping in mind everything she'd learned. That girl would never master the art if she didn't realize that books weren't all it took to excel in magic. In later years, she would probably see that, and start reading anything she could find on philosophy and meditation. And she'd wear herself out. But no matter, she was Minerva's business, and the old Gryffindor would soon take the matter in her own hands, he knew.

            Potter, though, was his business right now. Simply because Albus had requested it. He let his mind focus on the matter at hand... Either the boy had practiced over the summer, or he'd been willingly holding back on his abilities thus far. The second option was quickly discarded, because, for one, this was Potter, the boy who dearly wished he could show Snape he was wrong and wave it in his face – and if that meant showing his professor he wasn't as bad a student as he was told, then so be it. Another reason was that Severus would have noticed.

            He started thinking about what he could tell the boy (who was right now uncharacteristically successful in brewing the most difficult potion in his curriculum) to show him he knew he had, _again_, been breaking the rules, and settled for the age-old '_you're going to be expelled for this'_ taunt. Though, he knew, he would have to _prove_ the boy had been brewing potions over the summer. And that meant a confession. Which in turn meant winding him up. Ah, Severus' favourite sport. He briefly toyed with the idea of writing a book entitled _Top 100 Things The Potter Boy Doesn't Want To Hear_--Severus was certainly an expert in that field--but was forced to give up that train of thought when the boy had a coughing fit.

            This was no mere coughing fit, he realized. The boy was tearing his throat apart. He got up immediately and strode up to him... and saw Potter was coughing up blood. Severus immediately whipped out his wand and did the only thing that was sensible in this kind of seizure: he stunned him.

            "_Mobilicorpus_" he muttered, and quickly swept the boy toward the Hospital Wing.

            Once he'd left the boy in Poppy's care, he went back down to his classroom, to deal with the unfinished potion. He didn't think he'd be involved any further in Potter's mysterious illness, but was proved horribly wrong when, hours later, a frantic Poppy summoned him to the Hospital Wing.

~*~*~*~

            Poppy was distressed. That much was obvious. Well, she almost always was, when she was taking care of someone, to an extent that made Severus wonder why in Merlin's name she'd continue exercising such a stressful duty without ever relenting unless she dearly wanted to die of heart failure in her own hospital wing – the irony of which, Severus had a feeling, she wouldn't be able to grasp.

            But this time was different. Not because it was Potter... well, not entirely, at least. Severus knew everything in the wizarding world became much more complicated and exaggerated when it could be linked in some way, shape, or form, to the Boy-Who-Lived... until such a trivial thing as a frostbite usually became attempted murder (or, unknown to him, smoking became suicide attempt)... but he also knew his colleagues well enough to perceive when their Boy-Who-Lived-worship induced foolishness and oversensitivity concerning all things Potter had some ground in reality. And right now, he could tell that if Hogwarts's Healer, incidentally one of the best in the country, was acting this way, then there definitely was something wrong with the boy.

_            "Severus, I want you to find out what is wrong with Harry, at any cost. His weird behaviour –"_

_Severus snorted, clearly thinking nothing the boy ever did could be classified as weird, if one wanted to still be able to use the term 'normal' about him,_

_"– his street fights during the summer, his attitude during my announcement of Remus' return... I have a really bad feeling about this. Now, I know you might think the boy is acting like his usual self…"_

_Albus shot the dark-eyed man who wasn't even trying not to look exasperated a severe look,_

_"But I would feel far more at ease if you investigated the matter yourself. Something is clearly amiss, and you'll no doubt figure out what it is. Please."_

            And the Potions Master had accepted. Not that he usually took it upon himself to dwell into non-Slytherins' behaviours, but he had to admit that now, more than ever, he was inclined to grudgingly accept the Headmaster had a point. And far be it from him to refuse a challenge when it included the prospect of cornering Potter for some fault on the Gryffindor's part.

            Yet the boy's reaction to that particular potion's fumes, coupled by the fit he'd had afterwards, before collapsing in an undignified heap on the floor... and his current state of health, as hinted by Poppy's frantic behaviour... all hinted that this wasn't a mere challenge for the Head of Slytherin anymore. Once again, Severus Snape was back to the 4-year-old stressful and infuriating game of 'Save-the-Potter'. And once again, he was hating** every moment of it.

            Only this time, he had no idea that he'd actually be regretting it.

~*~*~*~

            "Ah, Severus, there you are!" Poppy noticed him and shuffled over. "I'm glad you could come so fast. I can't understand what exactly is going on with him..." So that's why she'd called him over. Severus arched an eyebrow. Rarely, if ever, was there a situation the Mediwitch could not deal with. Curious. The nurse answered his inquisitive look immediately.

"I'm pretty sure this is a poisoning of some sort. And quite a serious one at that. Only..." she gestured towards the many charts hovering around Potter's bed (the boy himself was hidden behind the curtains surrounding him), "I can't detect what the poison in question might be... The symptoms don't make any sense at all."

            Severus walked up to the charts. The red chart was the first one he looked at, it was the one about his blood status... "Internal haemorrhage," it read. The pink chart attached to it, for the cause of the bleeding, said: "Punctured Lungs". It was a miracle the boy was still alive, considering, he realized as he kept inspecting the various charts, the bleeding must have been going on for quite a long time: there were fragments of dried blood clustered all through his organs. This didn't make sense.

Unless... unless it bled slowly... And that could mean only one thing: Bleeding Stopping Potion.

            Before he could make any sense of it all, something else caught his eye. The blue chart, indicating the boy's stamina, quite clearly said he was suffering from severely defunct sleeping patterns and extreme exhaustion. The green chart revealed badly coordinated nutriment intakes. His mind took him back to the past few weeks... The boy kept falling asleep in his class... And he mustn't have eaten correctly for a while... But why, though? Was the boy throwing his health out of the window? That would explain it all, certainly... And he wouldn't put it past Potter. But no, there was no disease or anything that could have caused the lungs to be punctured that way, not if Severus relied on what the charts told him... and then, he finally noticed something else: the body wasn't feeling any hunger. Though by all rights... it should... Poppy was right, this didn't make sense. He couldn't for the life of him pinpoint what the cause might be. One glance at the white chart and it all clicked: his enzymes had gone haywire. Which meant there was an alien substance running through his veins. Definitely a poison, then.

            Severus quickly went through a list of all the poisons he knew. None could cause these symptoms. So it must be some other potion, something that wasn't a poison per say. The Bleeding Stopping Potion? No, definitely not. No... no... but...

            Bloody Hell.

            "Poppy, may I see the boy?" The nurse flinched at his tone of voice, though Severus took no notice. There were still some things he needed to make sure of, no need to jump to conclusions.

            The Mediwitch quickly drew back the curtains surrounding the bed.

~*~*~*~

            Harry was sitting on his bed, feeling worse than he had ever felt in his entire life. He wanted to throw up, he was dizzy, his hands were trembling like leaves in a storm, he was too hot, and too cold, and he felt drained of all energy… And then the curtains were drawn back, and in swept the last person he wanted to see – even if he had felt remotely healthy.

            Snape took one look at him and his eyes narrowed. A  pale, slender hand shot forward and stopped under his chin, raising his face so he was looking straight into Harry's eyes. What he saw there Harry didn't know, but his teacher was most definitely not pleased by it.

            "Potter," he snarled, "what have you managed to royally mess up this time?"

~*~*~*~

            Harry was angry. No, scratch that, he was extremely pissed off. As if feeling like he had been on the wrong side of one too many Death Eaters' wands wasn't enough, he now had to deal with an ex-Death Eater gladly blaming him for it? Could life get any worse? Well, it certainly could, but Harry didn't know that yet. Right now, it felt like Destiny had taken his life, chewed it, munched it, swallowed it, and thrown it up all over the place. It felt like Fate had decided for his life to take the most horrendous turn possible and stop at a dead-end, after having been shaken all through the spatio-temporal galaxy like a tam-tam during a carnival. He dearly wanted to throttle Snape, though he could've settled for screaming at him. Instead, he did something else entirely.

            He threw up.

~*~*~*~

            Severus looked at the boy sitting in front of him. As he'd feared, Potter was as pale as parchment, shaking, had deep purple bags under his eyes, and the skin around said eyes was red and raw. He looked like he was deteriorating by the minute. He had one last thing to check, and for once in his entire life, he hoped he was wrong. He wished he wasn't such a good judge of character, and that the Gryffindor wasn't as stupid as he'd proved himself to be over and over again all through his school career.

            He raised the boy's chin so he could look straight into his eyes. They were red-rimmed as if he'd been crying, but Severus knew better. These were the symptoms he didn't want to see. And indeed, the eyes were bloodshot. The veins were standing out so clearly that it was scary, the red contrasting with the iris so starkly that he wanted to draw back. The white that was supposed to be there was imperceptible. And then, the last ingredient in the potion.

            The irises were black: Potter's pupils were dilated. There was no green left to see.

            Stupid boy.

            "Potter," he asked, "what have you managed to royally mess up this time?"

            The boy was looking as if he was trying to formulate an answer that could combine all his frustration and hatred in a few simple words. And then the Gryffindor did answer, but apparently he'd settled for not using any words at all.

            He threw up.

            Into Severus' face.

~*~*~*~

            Harry's eyes widened.

            Dear Merlin.

            He was in for it.

            Snape looked like it was taking all of his self-control not to curse him into the next century with the Cruciatus. Or perhaps, as Harry feared, he was trying to come up with a curse that would prove even more painful.

            And then the Potions Master whipped out his wand.

~*~*~*~

            Severus clenched his teeth.__

_            Don't. Kill. Him._

_            Why not?_

_            Albus would kill you._

_            I don't care._

            Severus whipped out his wand.

            And pointed it at himself, muttering a cleaning spell. The Gryffindor visibly relaxed, shuddering, and heaving a trembling sigh. The Potion Master's eyes narrowed into the angriest slits anyone had ever seen on his face. Longbottom would have fainted. _Breathe._ He closed his eyes and gathered all of his self control. He didn't realize he was shaking with rage, however. He then fixed his heaviest glare on Potter.

            "I'm touched," he hissed, "and let me assure you that the feeling is quite mutual."

            He then turned on his heels and stormed off, leaving the Hospital Wing, the slowly dying Potter, and his humiliation behind.

~*~*~*~

            Albus hadn't seen Severus at dinner that night. In fact, he hadn't seen him all day. And considering the younger man always told him if he was indisposed, and always came to dinner _unless_ he was indisposed, Dumbledore figured something must be wrong. So, being the concerned headmaster that he was, he made his way toward the Staff Wing and into the Potion Master's chambers. He knocked on the heavy wooden door, waited a few minutes (five minutes, to be precise) for Severus to open, and sighed. Five minutes felt like an eternity when one was worried. He knocked again... then the door opened and he finally could get in.

            And was met with total pandemonium.

            It looked like all the insects and arachnids surrounding a five-hundred miles radius had migrated into the professor's rooms. And they were all either dead, or twitching. Little dolls littered the ground, mingling in with the insects, shred to millions of tiny pieces. All the dolls bore red and gold scarves, a clearly visible red lightning bolt on their foreheads and had emerald green eyes and messy black hair... Other such animated dolls were spread all around the room, shrieking in pain or performing various kinds of horrible chores while complaining. Everything in the room was suffering some kind of torture, with the possible exception of the few dolls with straight black hair and onyx eyes which were under the demanding task of tearing small Harry Potter figurines asunder. It had never occurred to the headmaster of Hogwarts that so many various ways of torture existed.

            And in the middle of it all, stood Professor Severus Snape, with his wand waving about, looking like an Orchestra Maestro.

            Albus stood on the threshold, not knowing what to do. He hesitated. "Severus?"

            "They're all insects," the younger man growled, as if distinctly unhappy about that fact, in between two Cruciatus Curses directed at unfortunate dolls who*** promptly started twitching and screaming in agony.

            "Who are?" Albus couldn't help asking, "Gryffindors, children, or Harry Potters?"

            "You know who" Severus hissed, before Avada Kedavra-ing one doll who had managed to crawl toward him and was whimpering at his feet.

            "Yes, him too." Albus replied. "Though I'm quite sure that Voldemort wouldn't appreciate being called an insect."

            Severus sighed. "Must you ruin all my fun? And using Lupin's sense of humour, too."

            "Well I see no other alternative," the Headmaster shrugged, "I definitely don't want to join you in torturing helpless and innocent insects."

            "He's _not_ innocent." the Potion Master whirled to face him. "In fact, he's anything _but_ innocent. He's the guiltiest brat there is; he's guilty of the worst crime, and once again, he'll go unpunished. And I wish to Merlin he were helpless... but he's not. _You're protecting him." Albus found himself on the receiving end of an accusatory glare._

            The headmaster smiled. "Who's 'he'? I thought we were talking about insects?"

            Severus breathed in deeply and closed his eyes for a very long time. Then, with a wave of his wand, he returned all the insects to their original state and swept them into a neat pile of rotting corpses in a corner of the room. The ones that had survived his furious onslaught quickly scampered away, released of one of the two non-lethal Unforgivables that had entrapped them in the room. "Ah, well." Severus sighed, sitting down at his desk, "I was getting bored anyway."

            Albus moved into the room too, allowing the last of the terrorized and confused spiders to flee their tormentor before closing the door. He turned to face the younger man. "Want to tell me about it?"

            "No."

            Albus sighed. "Severus, surely you can understand why I deem it necessary to find out the reasons that pushed my Potions Master to torture insects with Dark Magic – never mind the Unforgivables – under the roof of Hogwarts School. Insects in the effigy of one Harry Potter, no less."

            A low growl. "No."

            This could prove extremely difficult. But Albus knew exactly what would make the younger man relent. In a voice that was a mix of exasperated fondness and berating strictness, he said, dragging the word out as a parent would:

            "Severus..."

            A long suffering sigh. "No."

            Albus was shocked. Never, in all his years of teaching, had anyone failed to comply with that particular tone. But he supposed Slytherins in general, and Severus Snape in particular, were not easily swayed. And after all, he had never used this tone with any Slytherin before, so he couldn't rightly be surprised. He did have other tricks up his sleeve, though.

            "Professor Snape, I must insist," he said sternly, not realizing that playing the Power Card had always been a reason for his esteem in the eyes of Severus to wane.

Said professor looked up from his slouched position with his head between his hands, and regarded the older man for a very long time through narrowed eyes. Finally, sneering, the Potions Master sat up straight and answered coolly:

"Very well, Headmaster Dumbledore."

~*~*~*~

            Severus walked back to the Hospital Wing the next day after breakfast, somewhat thankful that Albus had successfully restrained himself from laughing at his fate. He had asked the Headmaster for permission to use Memory Charms on Potter and Poppy but it had been denied. Severus clenched his teeth. Well, at least he'd had the presence of mind to threaten Poppy into silence, requesting that she tell the boy to keep his mouth clamped firmly shut too. The nurse had readily agreed, showing the Slytherin that his days as a Death Eater hadn't been a complete waste of time after all: he knew how to intimidate better than anyone. And he'd been assured that Potter had seen the wisdom – or lack, thereof – of bragging about their incident last night. Unusually perceptive of him, really.

            When he arrived at the Hospital Wing, Poppy took one look at him, decided he was still in a bad mood, and moved into her office. Severus didn't waste any time and strode up to Potter's bed, drew the curtains, and said: "Potter. There are a few questions you need to answer."

            Half of him was surprised to see the boy had been reading a book on potions. The other half of him seethed. This was just another clue that pointed toward the fact that he was most probably right on his assessment of the situation. Potter put the book away and looked up at him, face inexpressive.

~*~*~*~

            "Good morning professor," Harry said, his eyes hard and feeling quite angry at Snape's barging into his personal space like that.

            Snape didn't return the greeting. "Where did you acquire the potions?"

            Harry would've blanched, had his skin not already been as white as that of a vampire. 'Which potions?' he panicked. What was Snape on about? What did he know? What was he talking about? The mind-altering potions that he'd taken at the Slytherin party? The potions he'd illegally brewed over the summer? The potions he'd made to cure himself from the traces of the abuse after Snape had seen his bruises? Those he used for his cigarettes--was he going to be punished for smoking? The Dark potions he had taken to practice anytime he could during the week – did the teacher know that Harry was studying the Dark Arts? The potions he'd _used_ during the summer? Which one was Snape referring to? How much did he know? Harry was in a state of complete bafflement. He could get deeply incriminated for this. Thinking about the possibility of expulsion if they knew about the Dark Arts didn't do anything for his nerves. He wasn't thinking straight, and that's why he never considered total denial as an option. He would later blame himself for this, of course. As his mind drew a blank, trying to determine how much trouble he was in, and his tongue knotted itself, the only thing he could do was get into damage control mode. How to get himself out of this? What should he confess to – what should he keep secret? Yet his mouth was working of its own accord, and he said the stupidest thing he could've said:

            "W-Wh-What?" He was the very picture of the deer caught in the headlights, admitting he had indeed acquired potions that he shouldn't have.

            Snape smirked. "The potions, Potter, where did you get them?"

            "What potion??" he squeaked. His eyes had gone as big as saucers. He was cornered, he knew it, and he was panicking. _Get a grip. Get a grip, get a grip, get a grip getagripgetagrip... Get. A. Grip._ He took one deep, shuddering breath and tried to compose himself.

            It was too late, though. Snape now knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that Harry had something to be blamed for. Only what Snape _didn't_ know was exactly _how much_ Harry had to be blamed for... The Dark Arts potions... Never mind expulsion, he could go to _court_ for that. Or perhaps straight-out Azkaban. Harry barely managed to keep himself from starting to laugh hysterically. He couldn't stop the slightly disturbed smile that crept onto his lips, though.

            Snape sighed in exasperation. "You are ill, Potter. Poisoned, in fact. Your illness is due to one thing and one thing only: you have taken Wakefulness Potion and Bleeding Stopping Potion at the same time, which is completely lethal. Judging by your state, which has been accelerated in its devastating process by the fumes of the Ageing potion you mixed two days ago, you have taken the potions during the summer. _Where did you get them?_"

            Harry breathed a sigh of relief. That's what this was about. So relieved was he that his darkest skeletons were still firmly hidden in the closet, he could only answer the question in all honesty. "I brewed them myself."

~*~*~*~

            Snape froze. He'd expected Potter to tell him he had _bought_ the potions himself. He had thought that the boy had been stupid enough to take the two potions without consulting a professional, without telling an adult. But he hadn't expected this. Sure, the boy broke rules and laws alike as easily and frequently as he breathed, but he hadn't been prepared for just how _inane_ the boy could be.

            He had poisoned himself.

This revelation set the seal on a long list of uncanny coincidences. As Severus had feared, the Headmaster was right: there _was_ something wrong with Potter. Why else would he _need_ the potions in the first place? And why, _why_, did he brew them, didn't even buy them, didn't consult an adult, but did this in all secrecy? He suddenly realized he had been secretly hoping he was wrong, that the boy's illness was due to something else entirely and _not_ related to those two potions (why had the boy felt the need to take them?), even though he knew he could only have been right.

Somewhere, Severus Snape had always hoped the Potter brat, the Boy-Who-Lived, Dumbledore's Golden Boy and All-Around Gryffindor Extraordinaire _wasn't_ so dim witted as Severus thought him to be.

He did successfully manage to quell the voice telling him that this had been a suicide attempt, though. A very clever one, mind you, but a suicide attempt nonetheless.

            Well, there was nothing for it. It was time to move on to the next step of his plan. Finding out what the problem was, and telling Dumbledore. How was he going to get Potter to explain? Ah, yes... yes, of course: Potter-baiting.

            He hauled the boy to his feet and dragged him out of the Hospital, all the way to Dumbledore's office.

~*~*~*~

            Snape barged into Dumbledore's circular office, dragging Harry behind him. He waited one second for Albus' inquiring eyes to settle on him, before starting to talk.

            "Headmaster, Mr. Potter has yet again displayed his humongous lack of judgement by his foolish assumption that the rules fail to apply to him." Albus raised an inquisitive eyebrow. Severus took that as his cue to continue and turned to Harry.

            "Tell me Mr. Potter, did you ever wonder why the use of magic by an underage wizard is prohibited? Could it be because we want to prevent inexperienced students such as yourself from making such dangerous mistakes? Do you ever ask yourself why there are seven years of education in a wizarding school? It couldn't possibly be that we estimate a first year student incapable of taking on the task of a sixth year now, could it? The intricacies of magic and the knowledge required to perform said magic correctly and to its full potential are things to be _learned_, Potter. You cannot up and wave your wand around, casting every spell your dim intellect can think of without allowing room for thought. Though, I suppose that kind of reckless behaviour is to be expected from a Gryffindor, who are unfortunately all but blessed with the gift of _wit_. There are things to be taken into consideration, boy, such as safety and precaution. We have to avoid the possibility of students using magic at their every whim, because they have yet no understanding of the risks implied, since their education is not sufficient. The only way for a wizard to be of age is for him to be judged capable of taking on the responsibility that comes with his magical nature, and that is achieved through education, which, may I remind you, you have not yet completed. Can you understand _that_, Potter?"

            By this time, Harry could practically feel the steam rising out of his ears. The fact that this was the first time in his entire life that he had heard Snape give a lecture while speaking like he _really_ wanted his point to get across didn't quite register in his mind. What did register, however, was the humiliation he felt, the insults and the overall degrading tirade that Snape was directing his way at an incredible pace. Bemusedly, he noted in some part of his mind that the man should not only be praised for coming up with the best ways to get someone worked up so fast, he should also get some recognition for the fact that he could snarl at such a pace. Harry could only dwell on his anger for a millisecond though: Snape was not done talking.

            "Tell me, boy, with the unprecedented capacity in potion making that you have displayed over the summer, did you ever stop to wonder why dragon saliva, used in the Wakefulness Potion, and vampire saliva, used in Bleeding Stopping Potion, are _never_ to be used together, while in theory they should simply reinforce each other's power, owing to their nature of both being saliva?"

            Harry was fuming. How dare he--! _Of course_ he had wondered! What was he, a hopeless moron? More than that, he had perfectly well known he was taking a risk when he'd drunk both potions at the same time, but it's not like he'd had any choice! He absolutely _hated_ people telling him he was stupid, and even more so when the person was Snape. His answer came out as a barely audible hiss escaping his painfully clenched teeth. "Yes, I did, sir."

            "Then not only are you arrogant enough to presume the laws don't apply to you, but you are also foolish enough to think that the laws that make Potions work have no relevance where you are concerned."

            Harry lost any shreds of self-control he'd ever had.

            "It was a matter of life or death!" he defended himself furiously, "I was bleeding so much I had to stop it or I _would_ have bled to death! But I couldn't even keep my eyes open long enough to measure the ingredients or see the scales, for all the exhaustion of my blood loss! What was I to do, _sir_? I had Wakefulness Potion ready and stored, just at reach! There was no other solution! Either I fainted and bled to death, or I took a chance and saved my skin!"

            Snape nodded at Dumbledore and turned on his heels to leave. As far as he was concerned, his job was done.

            "Please, Severus, don't leave just yet."

            Snape stopped. _'Don't leave just yet,'_ he says. Ha! The way he said that... What was this, a tea party? In any case, Severus turned back towards the other two, as Headmaster Dumbledore's requests were anything but.

            Harry, for his part, had just realized his mistake. He'd told them. How was he going to explain away bleeding to death during the holidays? And then, something else dawned on him. He'd been had. This had all been a trick. Snape had wound him up on purpose, so he'd tell them what had happened, why he'd had to use those potions... And he'd sung like a bird…

            "Harry?" came a kind voice. The teenager raised his steely eyes upon the Headmaster and regarded him coldly and silently. Dumbledore didn't react. "Please explain," he simply said, tone still gentle. Harry almost sighed in frustration. He was severely angry and frustrated. He was furious... at Dumbledore, for letting Snape go along with his plot; at the Potions Master, for tricking him so well; at himself, for falling into the trap so easily...

            "Not that my private life is any of your concern, headmaster," his voice was so cold it felt as though a chill had just swept past the office. Snape immediately glared at him, but Dumbledore looked unperturbed. Harry kept on talking, "but if you must know, I was struck in the stomach with a knife."

            At the Headmaster's questioning and concerned stare, he elaborated his lie. "Someone tried to rob me, and when I wouldn't give him any money, he struck me and left. I made it home," it took Harry a lot of self control to force himself into using that word, "the Dursleys were out, and by that time, I was almost fainting. You know the rest."

            Severus thought the boy must have been even dimmer than he'd originally given him credit for. Who in his right mind wouldn't give money to a thief with a strategic advantage?

            "Severus," Albus turned towards him, "I think that since Harry has shown such an interest in potions, as well as an uncanny ability for the subject, you should tutor him to prevent any unlucky incidents in the future. At least for a while. Maybe you two should work together on the antidote Harry needs."

            While Snape didn't make any move to answer, Harry stared, not quite able to decide if he should explode in rage or stare in shock. He narrowed his eyes. Yet he could think of nothing to say to this. "If that is all, Headmaster," he managed to sound respectful, while he didn't remotely feel the situation warranted it, "I believe I shall go back to the Common Room." The older man nodded, and Harry left with a nod directed at his elders.

~*~*~*~ * ~*~*~*~

* : (castee)…: Yep, I created that word, or so Microsoft Word tells me. Figured they had to have something other than 'victim' and simpler than 'the one on the receiving end of the spell and/or curse'.

** : I know you can't use the Past Continuous with an "emotion verb" such as 'to hate'. But I think it's appropriate, no matter what the rules are, because this is Severus we're talking about, and if his hatred of Harry Potter can't be seen as a repetitive, continuous, and prolonged action, then I don't know what can. I'll play the "artistic license" card on that one.

*** : Yes, Microsoft Word, and you readers who cringed at that turn of phrase, I _do_ know that a doll is not a person and therefore one shouldn't use "who" when referring to them, but rather "that" or "which". _But this is Albus' POV we're talking about, and the dolls are in fact transfigured insects, and if there ever was a person who would be the kind to talk of any and all animals with the pronoun "who", it's Albus Dumbledore._

You can, and should, pity me for putting so much thought and effort into this.

So, author's worries:

What did you think? Is Severus OOC much? Is Dumbledore? I think we've already established that Harry seems to be… well, some readers think he is. But what do you think now? If you've read the 5th book?

Are you confused about the Harry/Draco relationship? You are? Good.

Did you realize I tried out a different writing style somewhere in there? The Harry/Ginny scene, to be precise. I was inspired by Cassandra Claire's habit of describing clothes and positions et al. Did you like it? Or do you think I'm hopeless at it?

Did any of my readers not read OoTP? Your answer might help me decide if this fic will include Spoilers or not.

Please, drop me a review. Constructive criticism is more than welcome. Flames… well flames will be answered to. But it won't be in kind, so no worries, you weird people who lose their tempers for reasons that shall remain unfathomable forevermore.


	6. To Gaze Behind The Stranger's Mask

Last chapter: Harry fell ill, Severus and Dumbledore found out, he was set "Tutoring Sessions" with the Potions Master and left the Headmaster's office, angered.  
  
Click, came a faint sound, inaudible to the human ear. In the office where Severus Snape and Albus Dumbledore were standing, closest to the source of the elusive sound, silence reigned for a few more minutes. "Severus," said the Old Man finally, "I understand that these 'Tutoring Sessions' of mine..." Severus sneered. "...don't quite appeal to you..." Severus nearly laughed out loud, but didn't bat an eyelid. "...but I don't doubt you see their use." Severus now sighed, and answered: "Headmaster, I regret that I must admit that I do not, in fact, see their use; but that I do, however, see the use in honouring the requests of one such as you."  
  
Get diplomatic, that's what the Potions Master did the best. And that's probably what the Headmaster was thinking right now. And political, might he add. Although of course, everyone could argue endlessly about what Severus meant by 'one such as you' – especially the Headmaster. But Albus Dumbledore wasn't about to argue against such an unexpected, and narrow, escape from the effects of an irate Severus Snape (and the leftover wailing Harry Dolls in his wake) on the Headmaster's office. And Severus knew that. In fact, he counted on it – with all his will.  
  
"Headmaster?" he began, lazily. "Yes?" chewed he, around the lemon drop that had suddenly made an appearance in his mouth. He didn't have that two seconds ago, thought the Head of Slytherin House, fleetingly. Quickly back on track, he continued: "the boy forgot his wand, didn't he?" Dumbledore became serious at once. "Why, I think he did... And Poppy doesn't know..." he mused. "Indeed not" came the dry voice of the black-clad man. She wasn't meant to know. This had been spy business, after all. Perhaps one would be mistaken enough to believe that Professor Snape was simply acting as a teacher in Hogwarts School, and therefore what he did was pedagogical, in a twisted way. But nothing could be pedagogical when it came to Severus Snape, if he was dealing with students who weren't from his own House – especially Gryffindors. Especially the specific Potter who had been in the office recently. "Get Dobby to bring me the boy's things, I know a good place to wait for him."  
  
That meant an ambush, the Headmaster realized too late, for Severus had disappeared from the office like a billowing black cloud in a breeze. He must have left through some crack or hole in the walls, for The Dumbledore had locked his door. He was sure of that. And the key was hanging around his neck on a chain, he added as he reached for it. And no magic could unlock that door. Had the Headmaster thought his key was around his neck? Well he must have been mistaken, mustn't he, for there it was, hanging just underneath the doorknob. The old man called for Dobby.  
  
*~*~*~ *** ~*~*~*  
  
Severus Snape was indeed planning to ambush Potter. He was out after the boy's blood. Since he couldn't throttle Dumbledore, he'd throttle Potter. It was a good enough compromise, to him. Having taken a shortcut, he was already by the entrance to the Gryffindor Common Room, hidden. He took out a book that he kept in his pocket for emergencies such as these, and began to read. The Color of Magic, read the spine, by a man named Teyrih Pohrachaith. The author had been a former Slytherin.  
  
*~*~*~ *** ~*~*~*  
  
Harry hadn't forgotten his wand at all. And if he'd known that his elders thought he had, simply because the prospect of having to suffer Tutoring with his most hated professor had supposedly distressed him beyond common sense, he'd probably have a few colourful things to say to them. As it was, Harry didn't know anything, and was heading for neither his room nor the hospital wing. He wasn't planning on getting his wand back right away. He'd deal with that later, he had everything under control. He had a razorblade in his pocket, and that's all he needed.  
  
He made his way to a deserted storage room on the 7th floor, and sat down on a chair he'd conjured there on a prior visit. Pushing back his sleeve, he reached for his left-hand pocket and took out the sharp object that was the only thing occupying his thoughts. He pressed it against his flesh, and drew it slowly along the width of his forearm, relishing in the burning sensation it created, and watching as blood pooled in the cut. He'd been extremely stupid tonight. He'd allowed himself to be manipulated, a thing he had never believed would happen. It shouldn't have happened. And, he promised himself, bitterly drawing a second, third, and fourth cut on his arm, he would never allow it to happen again.  
  
By the time he had spilled enough blood to enable his anger to fade away, the floor was sticky with drops of crimson liquid. Pulling his sleeve back down, he made his way to the Common Room. When in front of the Fat Lady, he was interrupted by a silky voice. "Did you get lost on the way back, Mister Potter, or are Gryffindors always ones to take the most impractical route?" Harry turned around, locked eyes with his teacher, and scowled. "Professor." "I want you in my office tonight after dinner," bit out Snape, shoving the possessions Harry had left in the Hospital Wing into the boy's arms. Harry grimaced as his cuts stung, but his teacher thought the expression on the boy's face was due to the unwelcome idea of spending his evening with the Potions Master.  
  
Harry simply answered: "Of course, Sir." And went through the portrait, intent on getting ready for Transfiguration, his first class that Wednesday. He only had about ten minutes to get to class, but practical use of some Summoning Charms helped him get ready in time. He also took care to apply some Concealing Charms, so as to avoid people asking him why he looked dead on his feet. However, he didn't quite make it to the classroom by ten o'clock. Professor McGonagall seemed to know why he was late though, and didn't mention it.  
  
Once class had ended, Ron immediately came over to speak with Harry, as the latter was making his way out for recess. The other boy hadn't realized that anything was wrong, though, since Harry had only spent one night in the Hospital Wing, and it was quite natural for him to come in late, get up early and miss breakfast. Ron only asked him why he was late and Harry promptly said he'd been held back by Peeves. It was a complete lie of course, but he couldn't afford to tell the truth. Ron wouldn't be willing to lie to Hermione if he knew what had really happened, and if she found out... not only would she patronize him for illegal use of magic during the holidays, but they'd both have to worry about his health day in and day out. Harry didn't doubt the Potions Master's ability to find a cure, so he figured he was only saving them the worry.  
  
Also, he didn't want his illness to precipitate Hermione's attempt at reconciliation – which it would – without them working out their differences first. He wasn't about to forgive her simply because she was worried over his illness, but neither did he want to look as if he hated her by refusing her apologies. The day passed by uneventfully, and Harry spent most of his lunch break flying around the Quidditch pitch for lack of anything better to occupy himself with. His detention (or Tutoring Session) with Snape was a complete disaster though. That fact came as no surprise whatsoever to the young Gryffindor. Snape was in an extremely vengeful mood, and forced the boy to do all kinds of boring, disgusting, tiring, and numbing chores, all of which were related in some way to Potions – although none of them had anything to do with Tutoring. By the time Harry was out of the sneering and glaring teacher's office, he had permanently altered the name of the sessions he was to spend with Snape. Nobody would be surprised to learn that he now called them, in the privacy of his own mind, "Torturing Sessions". However, if Professor Severus Snape could hear that, he probably would be quite pleased.  
  
After leaving the older man's office, Harry went to the Quidditch Pitch in order to calm his nerves. It was night out, and there was no way anyone else would come there, he'd figured. People would rather risk being caught by Filch while inside the castle, as the penalty for being out on the grounds was worse. Sitting on the stands, he decided he wanted to practice with his second wand for a bit. He did need to get the hang of it, after all. A wand's efficiency only increased with the amount of practice the owner had with it. It didn't take Harry long before he realized that he was getting much better results when he used the ebony wand with his left hand. He was also surprised to see that his hexes and curses were far more powerful, while his charms and spells were far less effective. He briefly wondered if this had anything to do with what the wand held at its core, and decided to find out more about Dementor skin on his next trip to the library.  
  
Before he could muse any more though, he heard footsteps and quickly hid the ebony wand in his pocket, replacing it with his old Holly one. Turning around, he squinted through the darkness and pointed his wand towards the sound. The footsteps stopped and silence reigned for a few seconds, before a lazy drawl could be heard asking: "Who's there?" Had it been any other voice, Harry would have answered 'Who's asking?' As it was, he knew the intruder, so responded with an intrigued: "Malfoy?" A flash of light illuminated the blonde Slytherin as he lit his wand, smirking in Harry's direction. "Hello, Potter. Looking for a damsel in distress?" The Gryffindor immediately understood the jeer, since, being as he was the Boy-Who-Lived, he'd endured all kinds of "Hero-jokes" since his First Year. "It depends," he shot back, "Do I have to kill a Dragon in order to rescue her?" "I wouldn't recommend it. You've never had much luck when it came to disposing of reptiles until now," was the taunting answer. "Perhaps not, but ferrets aren't that much of a problem." The Gryffindor sneered. "Unfortunately for you, I'm not a ferret anymore." "You'll always be a ferret to me, Malfoy," Harry smirked. "And I thought you weren't one to underestimate me," replied the Slytherin, raising an eyebrow. "Believe me, you were right," answered the raven-haired boy snidely. "Then I see we're agreed." Draco wisely chose to turn the last statement against the boy who had uttered it. Harry couldn't help but laugh delightedly, and turned to walk to the benches closest to him.  
  
"Malfoy, you're something else, aren't you?" he said, looking up at the sky from his relaxed position on the bottom-most benches of the Quidditch Pitch. "And proud of it." The Slytherin crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, his wand now illuminating only part of his school robes. Harry had to light his own in order to see the other boy's face. "So, Potter, what were you doing here?" Came Malfoy's drawl. "Is that any of your business?" Shot Harry, raising an eyebrow. The blonde shrugged elegantly. "I was just wondering, Potter. No need to be this hostile." Harry sneered. "Just practising some spells, if you need to know." The grey-eyed boy's eyebrows lifted ever-so-slightly, before he stated: "Interesting. That's exactly why I'm here, too."  
  
Harry suddenly had an idea. He still didn't trust Malfoy, even though the other boy had been nothing but civil since the beginning of the year – he was probably plotting something – and the fact that he'd been invited to a private party wasn't a reason to suddenly decide the Slytherin wasn't a wannabe death-eater. But the green-eyed teenager certainly trusted his abilities enough to try out his idea. And it might lead to a clue about Malfoy's motives, if nothing else. Plus he needed the practice. "Is it?" He asked rhetorically. "How about a friendly duel, then? We'd both get what we came here for, wouldn't we?" The Slytherin smirked slowly, before replying: "Agreed." Harry got up and moved to face the other boy. The increasing darkness around them would help the boys develop their skills and learn how to defend themselves in unexpected situations. Harry wasn't particularly willing to help his opponent be more skilled at duelling, but this one-time might prove useful. If Malfoy's plan was to get close to him so he could curse him and deliver him to the Dark Lord, he'd be tempted to try that right now. But he wouldn't succeed, Harry knew, for the raven-haired boy was prepared.  
  
They started their match, and Harry soon realized that Malfoy wasn't doing anything illegal. 'Yet' he added to himself. He also noticed that Malfoy was more skilled than Harry was, even if the difference was so small the duel could easily end in a draw. Still, Harry enjoyed the challenge, and as he got hit with a Tarantellegra curse, knew he'd try his best to win. "Stupefy!" he said, and took the Tarantellegra curse off himself, while Malfoy was busy re-erecting his Protective Shield. They kept going like this for a good 10 minutes, neither of them willing to give up, both of them hoping their opponent would tire before they did.  
  
"Expelliarmus!" came a voice, which was neither Harry's nor Malfoy's. Both were thrown to the ground but immediately turned towards the girl who had spoken, watching as their wands whizzed towards her. Her wand was now alight with a Lumos spell, and she waved at them, smiling as she approached them at a light jog. "Hey, Draco! So sorry to interrupt, but I need a second of your time. Hello, Potter." It was Blaise, Harry realized, getting to his feet and paling as he saw her snatch the wands from the air, still jogging towards them. There were three wands in her right hand, and one in her left. Harry understood too late that his second wand, the one he wanted to keep secret at all costs, was now not only in a Slytherin's hand, but also in the ones of the girl who had sold it to him in the first place. And she worked in Knockturn Alley. Harry felt his anger starting to boil. He could say goodbye to his brilliant plan. Voldemort was bound to know Harry was getting ready to face him, and the boy would have no aces up his sleeve.  
  
Blaise had also realized there were three wands, and was just now inspecting them, mouth slightly open in surprise. "Right," she said, before turning on her heels and sprinting away from them, leaving three wands to drop behind her on the slightly damp grass of the pitch. Malfoy called after her, but she didn't respond. Harry had already picked the wands up, returning the two that were his into his pockets, and throwing the other one to the Slytherin. Malfoy glanced at him and said: "Potter, we'll continue this an other time, I hope." Harry nodded grimly, and watched as the Slytherin ran after his Housemate. He walked slowly back to the castle, trying to calm down and think rationally. There was nothing he could have done to help his plan right now that didn't involve illegal magic, and the realization only made him angrier.  
  
*~*~*~ *** ~*~*~*  
  
The next day, sometime during lunchbreak, as he was walking aimlessly down the corridors, Harry was approached by Malfoy. "Potter. I need to talk to you privately." The Gryffindor nodded and headed to an empty classroom, casting anti- eavesdropping charms in his wake. The blonde boy got straight to the point. "Blaise wants you to know she won't tell anyone about your second wand, and that she understands why keeping the secret safe might be important to you. So do I." Harry blinked in surprise. Why hadn't she come on her own? Why tell Malfoy? He didn't particularly trust them, but if he was to gamble, it might as well be on his terms. "If that is true, meet me in the Forbidden Forest tomorrow night at eleven o'clock, with Zabini. Be in the exact same spot we were when we saw the unicorn in our first year." If he was surprised by this request, the Slytherin didn't show it. Instead, he nodded and walked away, leaving Harry to wonder if his luck had just turned, and if he was finally going to be able to put in action the plan he'd had the night of the Welcoming Feast.  
  
*~*~*~ *** ~*~*~*  
  
That evening Harry succeeded in avoiding any type of 'talk' or confrontation with his friends, because he spent all the spare time he had until curfew in the library. When he came back to the Common Room, he went straight to bed. There were too many last-minute stragglers who came in at the same time as he for anyone who might have wanted to talk to him to be able to see him before he made his way to the dormitory. Ron, Harry supposed, was spending time with Hermione and planning to see him the next day. He was right, too, since the redhead spent his class sitting next to him that Friday. The last day of the week was Harry's favourite by far, because they only had one class. The fact that it was Potions with the Slytherins didn't ruin his mood. Ron also spent lunch with him, and Harry began to wonder how healthy it was for him and Ginny to alternately spend every odd day with either him or Hermione. Both of them were thankful for their friends' thoughtfulness, and never felt lonely. Yet this was probably taking a toll on them, as it had been going on for nearly two weeks. The twins, who were usually to be seen with either Harry or Lee Jordan, didn't seem to mind at all. Hermione had even started to become friends with her roommates, and though she didn't take part in the usual practice of swapping rumors, it looked as though she was slowly getting over her previous melancholy, and even developing a more laid-back attitude, choosing to sometimes forsake studying for leisurely activities. The Gryffindors, to their credit, hadn't told the other Houses of the reason for the rift in the Trio. Everyone could see something had changed, but at least none of his Housemates seemed to want him to get into trouble – after all, smoking on the premises was strictly forbidden. And of course, when he thought about it, he was only one of many who broke that particular rule. No Gryffindor had dared spill a Housemate's secret to teachers yet, and Harry fervently hoped that this House solidarity would hold.  
  
*~*~*~ *** ~*~*~*  
  
That night after dinner, Harry once again made his way to Snape's office. This time though, he wasn't set a list of chores to complete for the Potions Master's thirst of revenge, but he actually got to learn some things. When he closed the door behind him after entering, the Professor pointed him to a worktable where a cauldron and a multitude of ingredients stood. He was asked to alter the usual recipe for a Dreamless Sleep Potion so that the sleep it induced lasted for five hours only – not a minute less. He had no book to go by, and this challenge actually pleased him quite a lot. If it weren't for Snape's constant taunting, he might have even looked forward to the next session. Snape, for his part, took a blood sample from the young Gryffindor and set to work trying to find out what substances were in it – a very important step in the creation of an antidote, since the man needed to be sure that the poison in question couldn't be anything but what he thought it was. As Harry was finished in about 45 minutes, he got to watch Professor Snape work, and the man took this opportunity to explain the entire process to him. Harry, of course, took notes – he wasn't fool enough to believe Snape would stand for anything less. Especially not after the pointed look his professor had sent towards his book-bag as he started talking. But he did enjoy himself – secretly. After he was dismissed, it was already late, and he promptly set off for the Forest. When he came in the clearing he'd agreed to meet Malfoy in, he realized both he and Zabini were already there, sitting down by a tree and talking.  
  
Perhaps Harry was too confident in his abilities, or one might think he was careless, but even though he was out in the Forbidden Forest, outnumbered two to one by Slytherins he didn't quite know whether to trust or not, he didn't disarm them when he had the chance – that is, before they knew he was there. But then again, perhaps disarming them would have been a tactical mistake anyway, since it would have showed the two Slytherins that Harry didn't trust them – and then would they bother trying to get in his good books or be insulted and give it up for worthless? "Hullo," greeted the green-eyed boy, entering the line of vision of the other two in the clearing. They nodded back, their silence a sign of their apprehension – or perhaps their anticipation? Harry couldn't tell, but tried not to let the silent and tense atmosphere get to him. He quickly realized that Blaise seemed tense, however. After sitting down cross-legged by the other two, unknowingly forming a perfect equilateral triangle, he lit up a cigarette and offered it to the others. Unsurprisingly, Draco declined. He didn't seem to like them, even though he might smoke once in a blue moon. Blaise raised an elegant hand in refusal, an ebony coloured bracelet sliding down her wrist on her sleeve's wake with the movement. "Thanks, but I like my own better," she smiled, pulling out a pack of Dragon's Breath. Harry nodded his head to one side in a gesture of unperturbed acceptance, and lit her fag with his wand. Blaise seemed to relax a bit at this. The Gryffindor noticed a fair number of cigarette butts by her side. A breeze ruffled the leaves overhead as Harry prepared himself for his proposal.  
  
"Malfoy tells me you can keep a secret?" he started. Blaise went still for a fraction of a second before nodding seriously. "My Father asked me to give him a description of any and all customers this summer. I did. However, I will not inform him that I now know you were one of them." She sounded grim. "Is he tied by a promise to my enemies?" Harry wanted to know. Blaise blinked, raising her eyebrows, before shaking her head. "Only by one: that if you were to request a wand, they would be informed." So her Father wasn't a Death Eater, the raven-haired teen thought with some relief. That was as good as he could have hoped for. He supposed a Death Eater had asked shop owners in Knockturn Alley to forward any information relating to the Boy-Who-Lived to them – that is, where the owners weren't Death Eaters themselves. But Harry had expected that move beforehand. He didn't voice the fact that she was risking her father's life by keeping his secret. If he didn't defeat Voldemort upon revealing his second wand, the shop-owner was sure to be killed at best. "And I should trust you," he deadpanned.  
  
"But you don't," stated Malfoy, before Zabini could answer. "I do" challenged the Gryffindor. The blonde rolled his eyes slightly. "True, that was obvious by your intonation. Silly me." Harry took a drag on his cigarette. "Do you need proof?" he retorted. Dried leaves skittered across the clearing as the wind picked up again, adding to the eternal sound that was the whisper of living beings in the forest. Malfoy was standing up. "No proof you could provide would convince me." He didn't even look at Harry, but glanced down at Zabini, who sighed while sucking on her lower lip as though considering something. She started to push the hem of her robes away from her feet to get up, but Harry stopped her by placing a hand on her shoulder. He looked up at Malfoy, who was eyeing him coldly.  
  
"I beg to differ. I trust you just as much as you agreed to when coming here. And I have a way of convincing you." His eyes held the Slytherin's gray ones intently as he tried to convince the boy by sheer force of will. The blonde smirked ironically. "All right, I'll humour you. I want proof." He sat back down in one fluid, elegant move, ending cross-legged on the floor, and leaning back on the palms of his hands. Harry allowed himself a moment to relax. Slytherins were very proud and easily offended, but they didn't react as Gryffindors did. Whereas members of the Lion House would get defensive and confront people, the Snake House's students were much more likely to keep their cool and distance themselves. Even when they lost their composure. Harry knew he'd sounded distrustful, but considering the circumstances, could he have been anything else? "Right." He took another puff of smoke. "I thought some people might benefit from the knowledge that Voldemort really is back. But for that to happen, his Death Eaters need to show themselves. As they won't do it, someone will have to do it for them."  
  
He looked at Malfoy again, trying to gauge his reaction. The boy was grinning at him. "You're out of your mind, Potter, just as I always knew you were." Harry wasn't daunted. "I'm serious. And I not only trust you with this information, but I also trust you to help me set this up convincingly." "What if we weren't willing to trust you when we came here to begin with?" the Slytherin probbed, referring to what Harry had said earlier. "Then this is my chance to show you that you can." The Gryffindor's reply was smooth and confident. "And ours too?" The blonde raised an eyebrow. "If indeed you do not want to believe that I trust you, then you can choose to view this as a test of your trustworthiness, Malfoy. Inevitably, the decision is up to you." The Slytherin didn't push the matter, even though Harry had no doubt that the other boy had picked up on his unwillingness to directly say how much he truly trusted them. Blaise seemed more interested in his plan. "What exactly do you want to do to convince people that Death Eaters are out and about? It's hardly as if we could rampage a Muggle town and torture civilians." "We won't have to." The raven-haired boy got a mischievous glint in his eyes, and the two Slytherins sat forward to listen to his plan, leaves rustling in the wind overhead.  
  
*~*~* *** *~*~*  
  
Sunday afternoon meant another 'session' with Snape. The man told him he'd started work on devising an antidote, and had the immense pleasure of being forced to work against time, for which he thanked Harry profusely. The boy couldn't say anything to that. He was set to work on the same Dreamless Sleep potion as last time, since he'd failed miserably Friday – or so Snape told him, although Harry couldn't see where he'd gone wrong. He wasn't even allowed to test the potion on a lab rat to view the effects, and couldn't push the matter without telling Snape outright just how mistaken he thought his teacher must be. Gryffindor or not, Harry did have some common sense.  
  
Severus took out his notes, illegible to all but he, and started his calculations. A drop of mint would enhance the curative powers of unicorn tail hairs, but conteract with the bicorn horn, unless he was to add some faerie dust, in which case... He went on in this vain for half an hour, as only a Potions Master could, before figuring out exactly how to make this step of the process work. One step down, twenty-something more to go. Severus gritted his teeth and turned his face up to glare at the source of his torment. The glare faded into an impassive look as he noticed the boy's sleeves had slid down to reveal cuts.  
  
Potter cut himself? The Boy-Who-Lived, Golden Boy of the Light Side, was actually practicing self-mutilation in his spare-time? Severus shook his head. He should have known this would take a hold on the Gryffindor, but had mistakenly thought Minerva was qualified to deal with it. Cuts meant an inability to deal, and no one should have to go through that. There was definitely more to this boy than met the eye, and Severus was intent on figuring him out. Cuts meant the boy was hurting, and didn't know where to turn to, except against himself. Perhaps he should tell Minerva. Or perhaps he should take care of this by himself, as Dumbledore had requested him to. The old man had been right in the end: the boy did need help. But what kind of help could Severus provide in a case like this? Confront him? That would be counter-productive. Talk to him? Scratch that, get someone else to talk to him? Remus or Minerva, or both. Either. Perhaps he should just tell the Headmaster, after all... Enough, the Slytherin told himself. If anyone could talk some sense into the child, it was he. Others would only cajole him and look at him sadly. And after all, he'd best keep this a secret. Everything Severus Snape did on the request of Dumbledore was a secret, especially if it meant helping the Saviour of the Wizarding World. "Potter," he said, "put those utensils down and come here."  
  
Harry gave a start as he was disturbed from his work and realized his sleeves had slid down. Cursing himself, he let his arms quickly rest by his side, letting the silky black folds of his robes brush down to his knuckles – they were a bit long, but he liked them that way –, and looked up to see his teacher calmly reading his notes.  
  
He started putting away his tools and ingredients, conjuring up a glass of water to put his laddle in to soak. Extinguishing the fire, he wondered if the man had seen or not. He packed his bag and took it with him as he walked up to the table. He waited for the Professor to meet his eyes. His face had easily slid into a mask of indifference long ago, but as the time passed, he became frustrated and sat down. On cue, Snape asked: "Did I tell you to sit down?" "I'm sorry Sir," Harry was on his feet immediately. His trick to get the teacher's attention without angering him had worked. Snape would wait until a Gryffindor was out of line to say something. Said man's eyes took in the packed bag, impeccable worktable – halted potion and all – and soaking ladle calmly. "You may sit back down," came his voice, to which the teenager complied apprehensively. "Why did you lie?" was the first thing Harry was asked, and it made him blink in surprise. "About what, Sir?" The Potions Master blinked, finally luring Harry into a sense of security, for the boy would have the impression that the man before him had seen nothing. "I rephrase my question then. Do you cut?" Harry frowned as if in confusion, "I... don't think I do, Sir..." he lied instinctively. His breath quickened as he realized the man knew – and if he did, there was no way out of this. His teacher raised an eyebrow, making his student avert his gaze and sigh. "What do you want?" It sounded like a statement. Severus Snape was relieved. "I want you to stop cutting," his voice was cold. "On one condition – that you tell no one about this." Green eyes coolly met those of his teacher, and the black eyes narrowed ever so slightly, before the man spoke. "You better stick to your end of the bargain, Potter." Harry looked down on his lap, forcing himself not to comment. "Yes, Sir" he intoned, feeling drained. This was going to be hell. "You're dismissed."  
  
Harry picked up his bag and left for the dormitory, mind furiously at work. What kind of potion could he use to heal his arms fast enough that future cuts faded as soon as he made them? Perhaps he should pick up Healing as a new topic for bedtime reading. It wasn't wise to take some Potions too often.  
  
~*~*~*~ * ~*~*~*~ A/N: Sorry this took so long, I had author's block and school got in the way. I know you guys have been waiting long for this, and it's short, but I better get it out now or it'll be too long... Hope you enjoyed it, I look forward to hearing about your thoughts concerning this chapter.. Thanks to every single one of you for your wonderful reviews that kept me going. -- Terra. 


	7. The Snake Sheds Its Skin

Author's Note: Sorry it has been so long. I was too immersed in my own problems to continue, and subsequently lost all interest. I'll continue now though, but it'll be slow. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Rowling invented Harry Potter. I invented this story thanks to her. Legally I may have no claim, but to say it isn't mine after working so much on MY story? Don't think so. It's fanfiction.

**_AssylumBound:_** The magical storm was caused not by Lupin's appearance but by the forest's slowly changing, as an animal would grow in time, something like that. Enjoy!

* * *

**_Chapter VII: As The Snake Sheds Its Skin_**

Harry had just returned from Quidditch training and was talking with Draco about their plan. They'd decided to enlist Blaise's help, and settled for Halloween as the date when they would do it. It wasn't going to be easy, but they'd spent a lot of time watching the people in Hogsmeade and had already bribed a family into co-operating. Now Harry needed to go to Tutoring with Snape. With a quick 'goodbye' he left for the dungeons.

When he arrived, Snape told him they were to begin Occlumency. Harry was explained what he had to do and Snape pulled out his wand and yelled "Legilimens!"

_Harry was 5 years old, and crying silently on the floor while Uncle Vernon backhanded him again and again mercilessly. His eyes opened in shock when he saw the belt. It came down on his back once, twice, then twice again- _

"No!" Harry yelled and a light shot from his wand, hitting Snape straight in the chest.

Getting up, Snape gave him a strange look, and asked "What was that Potter?"

"None of your business" the boy replied, whishing he'd been given a Pensieve to hide his memories in too.

"Right then" murmured Snape, "Legilimens!"

_Harry was nine, crouched in a corner of the Living Room and Vernon Dursley was shouting at him. Harry blinked then stood up defiantly, he'd had enough of this._

"_Teach you some respect," growled his Uncle, and hit Harry hard in the jaw, which had the boy quite dazed for a time. During Harry's dazed spell, Vernon unhooked his belt and let his drawers down. Opening a drawer, he took out handcuffs and clipped it around the radiator, putting the other on Harry's hand. Then hands reached down and took the boy's trousers off, slipping out of his own boxers._

_Harry screamed in pain as Vernon thrust into him, his buttocks hole felt like it was on fire, it was too big to bear! Vernon worked faster and –_

Snape stopped the spell immediately, Harry was on the floor, breathing heavily and seething silently. This was the worse thing he had ever experienced in front of a teacher.

"Potter," said Snape softly, and Harry raised his eyes to see a weird glint in his teacher's black ones. "This has officially _become_ my business." He took a deep breath and added: "Who was that man?" His voice was deceivingly soft, but Harry could tell he was angry. He worried Snape would tell Dumbledore, so replied:

"This will not leave this room."

Snape sneered. "I hardly believe I can promise you that. Dumbledore-"

"No!" Harry got up. "No." He looked down in a brief moment of shame, and added, his breath quickening, "I'll tell you but you're to promise…"

Snape thought for a few seconds, his eyes intent and dark, observing the young Gryffindor, before replying in the affirmative.

"My uncle" Harry said with discernable hate in his voice. "That was my uncle".

"I see. Have they always treated you like this?"

Sigh. "I do not wish to talk about this" he replied darkly. "Now if you'll allow me…" He made to leave but the Potions Master's voice stopped him:

"You won't return there anymore. I'll personally see to that." The man's voice had a cutting edge to it, and Harry idly wondered that the man was suddenly caring, angry on his behalf. Of course, with what he'd seen… the 'Greasy git' wasn't heartless after all.

"Thank you" Harry replied, turning to look at his teacher, gratefulness in his eyes.

"No need to be so grateful Potter. The Headmaster would skin me alive if he found out I allowed you to go back there after witnessing such events. It is but my duty as a teacher. Now," he added, his voice turning into his lecture-tone, "we're not done here quite yet. Legilimens!"

His teacher didn't ask him any more personal questions after that.

* * *

Hermione found him in the common room to apologise for her behaviour concerning his smoking. It had been almost a month and a half since they'd come back to school, and Harry was glad to see they could salvage their friendship and she could own up to doing something wrong. Indeed, he'd always thought Hermione would never accept that she wasn't right about something. He forgave her instantly. 

Music was blasting in the background as some second year's birthday was being celebrated so Harry went upstairs to get some studying done. Fifth year was proving to be quite harder then he'd expected. The course-load was real heavy.

Harry was delighted, although he didn't much like having had to share his most awful memories with his teacher. Not going back to the Dursleys… it was exhilarating.

He met Ron and Hermione at the foot of the stairs and headed for the Great Hall to have dinner.

"Hermione," Ron said, and the girl turned to look at him. "The Hallloween ball is coming up… Would you like to..?"

Hermione waited.

"-To go with me?"

Harry smirked. Hermione smiled widely. "I'd love to!" she said, throwing her arms around Ron's neck, and kissed him in the cheek. Ron blushed crimson.

When they settled down to eat, Harry let them know he wasn't going to the Dursleys anymore. Hermione was delighted, and Ron thumped him on the back, saying "Good on you, mate."

When he told them he had Snape to thank for that, however, Ron was speechless and Hermione quite shocked. "Well, I knew he was human under all that show he puts on for us in class, but I didn't ever foresee him actually helping you with anything." She shook her head. "Silly me."

Harry never told them the details of his episode with Snape.

* * *

Draco was doing some very hard thinking. It was October the 20th and they were watching the fireworks from a clearing in Hogsmeade. Harry looked at him inquisitively. 

"I've no idea what I'm going to dress up as," answered the blonde-haired boy.

"Well, you'll just have to wait to see mine." Harry was grinning mischiveously.

Although they were now friends, Harry realized over and over again that he'd been really careless about befriending Malfoy. Sure, there'd been continuous signs that they would get along well, but the grey-eyed boy could've just been plotting to deliver him to the Dark Lord. Harry didn't know why, but he'd just had this feeling to go ahead with it...

Blaise had been silent for a while now, holding Draco's hand, her red hair swinging behind her in the wind. Now though, she said "I'm going as a muggle. They're pretty scary, what with all the witch-burnings and all."

Harry laughed. Halloween was promising to be an eventful night.

* * *

In the Great Hall, the Ball was in full motion, some couples and groups of friends were out in the Grounds, some people walking around in the castle, but with most everyone was in the Ball Room – or rather, transformed-for-the-occasion Great Hall. The youngest students had gone trick-or-treating in the teachers'offices during the morning and in Hogsmeade during the afternoon. It had been quite fun, Harry had been in charge of Colin Creevy and his friends, and their tricks on some of the Hogsmeade houses had been hilarious. Rotten eggs splashing on windows, wet napkins thrown around, sticking to walls, lots of mayonnaise and ketchup greeting the people who didn't give out candy on the heads… Good Fun, in short. 

One elderly man had not given out candy on purpose, he said, after a Tarantellegra curse had hit him. "To see what tricks the young'uns had up their sleeves" he explained, finally giving them Chocolate Frogs.

It had all ended around five in the afternoon, and Harry had been once again in the Gryffindor Common Room with the students by 5 o'clock. He started working on his costume, transfiguring an old sock into a white mask, then met with Draco and Blaise at the foot of the stairs leading to the first floor. Hermione and Ron had been brought up to date about the plan weeks ago, and Hermione had responded surprisingly well to Harry's new camaraderie with the Slytherins.

"Well, the more the merrier," she'd said, only a bit reluctant.

Ron, on the other hand, fully declined the idea of socializing with Slytherins, saying that Malfoy was a jerk no matter how much Harry had defended him, insisting he'd changed quite a bit from the arrogant prat they'd been dealing with the previous years – well, most arrogance was still there, as he was "a Malfoy after all" as the blonde continually said when he was preening next to his friends. By two weeks, however, Ron had reached a certain understanding with Harry. He would come along and help, but no one should expect him to greet Draco with a smile.

* * *

Harry kept to the shadows, walking swiftly up the hill. He had his invisibility cloak on, and Draco was by his side, he, Hermione, Ron and Blaise had cast a Notice-Me-Not charms on themselves. They reached a house on top of the hill, in Hogsmeade, and opened the door. The occupants had left to hide from the Wizarding World for an unlimited amount of time, having been bribed to do so without alerting anyone by Draco and Harry. They started shooting curses left and right, making the furniture break and tear, attacking all sides they found to make it look like a real battle-scene. When they were done, Draco shouted "Morsmordre!" and a giant skull with a snake coming out of its mouth and circling the skull appeared on top of the house. Finished, they returned to the Halloween ball. 

See if people were going to believe Voldemort was back _now_…

* * *

When they came back into the Ball Room, Harry got a few screams from first or second years who thought his Death Eater costume and apparel were very convincing. He sew Cleopatra helping herself to a drink by the buffet and walked up to her, knowing who it was. 

"Would you grant me this dance?" He asked gentlemanly to Ginny. She grinned and put her hand in his, nodding. A slow song was playing and they joined the other couples at the center.

Later, he was walking on the grounds, talking quietly with Ginny about Quidditch.

"I hope the Ballycastle Bats win the cup, they're my team" he said. Ginny loved Quidditch, so it wasn't awkward at all talking to a girl about sports.

She said: "Oh please don't tell me they are! You should root for the Falmouth Falcons! You know: 'let us win, but if we cannot win, let us break a few heads'. Their motto is what got me to be a fan."

"If any of you had any brains," came a smooth, drawling voice, "you'd go for Puddlemere United. They always win."

Draco came out of the brush, holding Blaise's hand. He grinned.

Ginny got a look on her face, and she blinked when Harry said "Wonder what you two were doing hidden in that brush," teasingly. Blaise smirked.

"Jealous, Potter? You and your girlfriend haven't left phase one yet?"

"Harry," Ginny asked, surprised, "you guys are friends?"

"Yep," replied Harry, "let's sit down, shall we?" And with that the four settled down on the grass. Harry called on Dobby, who appeared immediately.

"Dobby?" inquired Draco, "since when are you working at Hogwarts?"

"Since Dobby has been freed, Master Draco Malfoy, Sir!"

"Could you bring us four Butterbeers?" asked Harry, looking around him to make sure they all wanted one. They nodded. The elf jumped up and down with glee, and disappeared, coming instantly back with four bottles of the low-alcohol drink.

"Dobby is glad to help, Master Harry Potter Sir! Dobby is very glad!"

With that he left once again, leaving the two couples to talk. Draco later took a rolled up joint out of his pocket and smirked mischievously. "Anyone want some?"

Ginny gaped, more so when Harry answered with: "What, you think we'll let you have all the fun on your own?"

Blaise nodded at Draco who lit his weed with a grin. Ginny seemed hesitant as to whether she wanted any, and Harry reassured her. "It's not bad, really; hough you're perfectly allowed not to have any."

"Okay" the vibrantly red-head answered slowly. I think I can try it, at least…" But as she looked at it more closely she decided she didn't want any. The others shrugged and let her sit in silence as they smoked and kept talking.

After having finished their butterbeers, the couples separated and Ginny went to a more secluded area by the Quidditch pitch with Harry. As Harry leaned in to kiss her, Ginny held up a hand, saying:

"Harry… I'm not sure I want it to be like this… you being stoned and all. I never imagined our first kiss would be with you under the influence of a drug…"

Harry blinked and was a bit angered inside that she thought he was less genuine äbout his feelings only because of a joint, but he smiled at her, and promised he understood.

* * *

The next time he saw Professor Snape, the man eyed him with a weird look on his face. He was asked to complete a Blinding Potion, which was 7th year material, and given a recipe. Needless to say, he would have completed the potion perfectly under normal circumstances. He knew that. Snape didn't. And it was Harry's belief that everyone would be better off if Professor Snape was left in the dark about Harry's newfound potion-making skills. Snape would've suspected something was up otherwise – and been entirely right in doing so. Harry didn't know this, but something _should_ be suspected when people became this good at something they'd been useless at in the short space of time known as the summer holidays. 

"It said _5_ seconds!" Snape shouted as Harry botched up his potion beautifully. The cauldron spit and gurgled in the background.

"I'm sorry, sir" answered Harry, succesfully conceiling his satisfaction. His long black hair was now reaching just past his shoulders, and a fresh cut was stinging at his thigh.

Snape walked over to the cauldron and muttered "_Evanesco_" watching the contents disappear. "That'll be enough for tonight."

Harry was walking down to the Potions room for a detention he'd had for talking to Ron while in class. By this time, he thought, Snape should have stopped giving Harry detentions because he supposedly loathed him and therefore, how could he endure the sight of the boy so often? Even if it made him happy to witness putting Harry through what was obviously painful moments, didn't he ever get tired of it? Obviously not. Harry felt a similar sense of loathing well up in him.

Snape asked him to prepare a parental potion, something that only 7th years could do, and Harry glared at the teacher. The recipe was clear enough, and just following the indications would be easy, but there was no way he would botch the potion on purpose. He'd had enough of hiding his abilities; he was going to have exams at the end of the year, for Merlin's sake! He deserved the good grades after all, he'd worked very hard to get to this point. So he mixed up the potion without a sound, and then stood by as his teacher came to inspect the results.

"For once, Potter, you seem to have been able to follow some simple indications. I congratulate you," he said, narrowing his eyes – he looked close to pinching himself in order to see whether he was dreaming or not. Harry smiled inwardly. The recipe might be simple, if followed to the letter, but the potion required full concentration, real dedication and some amount of talent in order to be completed successfully.

Next, he made Harry sample some of the potion. The green-eyed boy drank a goblet of it and waited until the names of his parents got written in the air.

"Severus J. Snape"

"Lily D. Evans-Potter"

They stared for a long moment in silence. Finally, Snape took a handful of crushed Bubotuper leaves from his cabinet and threw them in the potion. The mixture turned pink. He glared at Harry and said: "I can't see any mistakes." His voice sounded strained.

He then took a cauldron and mixed his own potion, then gave some to Harry again. Harry drank this too and watched as the same words etched themselves into the air in front of them. He let out a nervous laugh, turned to his teacher and said: "I guess neither of us made a mistake, then?"

"No" answered the black-clad man next to him. "You're my son?" he asked rhetorically, then drew up a chair to sit on tiredly. "I never knew. Well… this settles the question of where you'll be staying when away from school…"

Harry laughed again, a bit more loudly this time. "Well, what are the odds, eh?" It was clear from the boy's attitude that he was in shock, probably not believing his eyes. Suddenly he sat down on the ground. "I don't believe it. Do you?"

"Potter, I know one th-"

"Don't call me Potter!" interrupted Harry. His head was swirling with thoughts. "It's probably not true anyway."

"I know this may sound conceited to you, but my potion-making abilities are unique. I am certain I made no mistakes. If you want to make sure, we could ask Madam Pomfrey for a blood-test."

"Good idea" answered Harry, hoping this nightmare would soon end.

The test immediately came back: positive. It had been done anonymously, with vials of each man's blood sent up to Pomfrey's office.

Harry started to stalk out of the room without another word, but was held back by Snape's hand grabbing his upper arm. "Po- Harry," he said, "I need to talk to you."

Harry turned back, glaring. "You're _not_ my father" he was trying to convince himself but started to think it was no use. The potions and the blood test were both done accurately, by experienced people. 'Okay,' he told himself 'just weather this. You don't need him as a father after all, it's just blood. But how..?'

"Please sit down"

Severus had noticed things were up with Harry, like his newfound potion skills, his physical appearance (he was longer, thinner, with a more pointed face and noticeable cheekbones), his cutting himself... Now though, after discovering he was his son, he felt a bit more concerned by the current situation.

"Have you noticed how your physical appearance has changed?"

"Kind of difficult not to."

"Well, I've recognized them as appearance charms, and I'm sure your mother put them on you. They've started wearing off, therefore you have two options: one, we renew them and you start changing backwards, which everyone is bound to notice since you'll be growing shorter, not to mention we need Potter's hair strand or something to that effect for the charms to work accurately. Two, you let this run its course, which means soon you'll look nothing like yourself, and this, too, is sure to get noticed."

Harry suddenly felt very weary. Either way, people would start asking questions and the only reasonable answer to give them would be the truth – which there was no way he would do. The-Boy-Who-Lived, son of an ex-Death Eater? Riiight...

_Come to think of it, why not? I've already got more than enough attention from the press; I would hardly feel the difference if this got out..._

_**Because, you dolt, Voldemort would ask him to turn me in and he'd lose his position - **_

" - as spy, so I'm sure you know what I mean..."

Harry's head turned around, pulling him out of his daze. "Sorry, what?" he asked confusedly.

"I said, it'll be obvious, with the way things are going, that you're my son. And what with me being a spy, we'll have to cover up who you really are, so I suggest we tell people you left school, and have the real you get enrolled as my son, all appearance charms taken off. It's the only way to protect us both. Do you understand how necessary this is?"

Harry wished he didn't. "Isn't this going a bit fast? First we find out you're my father, with no explanation whatsoever as to how this happened with my mom being married to my d- James Potter, then you seem to naturally slip into the role of father and tell me all the preparations and arrangements that seem to be needed, while this is going on, _I'm_ still in shock at the news..."

"One plus of being Dumbledore's spy is the ability it gives you at thinking on your feet" inserted his father.

After a short silence, Harry nodded. "Okay," he said, resigned, "We need to hide me under a new persona. Best if the new me and the old me attend school at the same time so we don't get suspected of anything. I probably will not even be allowed to tell my friends, am I right?"

"Quite. I ask you to remember the deadly mistake Potter and your mother made in trusting Pettigrew."

Harry sighed. He'd probably tell them anyway.

* * *

Harry told Ron and Hermione that he'd be leaving school for his own safety the following evening. He failed to mention his true parentage, however, but said they could keep in touch, he'd let them know how. Meanwhile, Severus spoke to the Headmaster, who was shocked for the first time in many years but immediately accepted to admit Snape's son into the school. No-one was told of the relationship between Harry and Snape, not even Dumbledore.

* * *

December 1st arrived, and Snape began masquerading as Harry Potter; a certain Zacharia Sean Snape was introduced to the rest of the school as coming in from home-schooling. McGonnagal placed the Sorting Hat on his head. 

"_Hmmm... I see this is the second time we meet."_

_Yes._

"_Well, as I said the last time, You'd do well in Gryffindor. But Slytherin too. Definitely not a Ravenclaw or a Hufflepuff, you're not that amazed by knowledge or that patient. I feel... But no, let me think...-"_

_You're not going to suggest Slytherin again, are you?_

"_Actually, I am. You'd do well there. Very well indeed. Quite cunning, you are, and ambitious too. Though daring and reckless often-times... Still, your bravado cannot be compared to your smarts, it seems you'll do anything to get things to work the way you want them to... Yes... I believe, Slytherin!"_

The hat shouted the last part and the Slytherin table broke into applause, eager to have Snape's son amidst their ranks. Most Gryffindors looked relieved.

Until the Christmas holidays, Snape pretended to be Harry, while the school said Snape was too sick for classes. Harry, as Zacharia Sean Snape, made friends (or as close to it as he could get) with Malfoy and Zabini.

* * *

The apparent attack on number 114, Hogsmeade, had made the news immediately and some people were indeed blaming it on the Dark Lord, but most were saying the Death Eaters had gone rampaging. They found no bodies, therefore assumed the residents must have been killed in the melee. 

Harry concealed his grin as he went through the Daily Prophet. His plan was working. People were scared and most students wrote to their parents to say Voldemort was indeed back in action. Parents were scared, it had happened so close to their children's school…

Some even thought of pulling their children out of Hogwarts, but this only happened to one student, a Ravewnclaw second-year.

* * *

When the Christmas holidays were halfway through, Harry – or rather, Zach, as he was called by Draco and Blaise – had finished his homework. He silently left the Common Room and went to Severus' headquarters. He knocked on the door twice, before being let in. 

Severus opened the door. In front of him was standing a tall, handsome young man, with black hair reaching down to his waist, shockingly green eyes, shining like emeralds, a lithe but somewhat muscled figure, and to top it all off, defined cheekbones with smooth and elegant features to his face.

"Hello, Zacharias" greeted the Potions Master. He stood aside to let the boy in. "What brings you here?"

"I finished all my homework" answered the youngster.

Severus' face lit up a fraction, a sneer crossing his face. "Finally. I can only hope you've paid attention to what you did, and that you'll uphold the family name."

Harry's shoulders hunched a bit. He hated being reminded to "uphold the family name," as it was, he and Snape were family only since a few weeks, and he'd never been subjected to a parent's expectations before.

"Trust me," sneered Zach, "I'm getting top grades."

"You better, with the amount of time it took you." Severus' face was cold and strict, but then his features relaxed and he announced they could finally go to Snape Manor for the rest of the holidays.

"I wanted you to use the library here, since it's bigger than mine," he explained.

That night, Harry and his Father left with a Portkey for Snape Manor.


End file.
